Once Upon A Time
by rcaqua
Summary: REWRITE! A teenage girl is given an impossible destiny. She’s taken away from everything she knows and everyone thinks she’s dead. Eight years later, she’s back, and in for one hell of a fight. HPBtVS.
1. Chapter One

**Title: Story of a Girl**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything. At all. If I did, I'd have more money then God and would never have canceled _BtVS_ and _Angel_.

**Summary: **A teenage girl is given an impossible destiny. She's taken away from everything she knows and everyone thinks she's dead. Eight years later, she's back, and in for one hell of a fight.

**Distribution: **Just ask if you want to use this.

**Spoilers: **All of _Buffy_ and _Angel_. Through GoF, and some minor ones from OotP.

Once upon a time there was a happy teenage girl. She had everything she could possibly want- a loving family, great friends, good grades, and a place at one of the best schools in Europe- even if her life wasn't exactly normal. Because this girl also happened to be a witch, and went to a school to be taught magic. Her two best friends were wizards, and had a knack for attracting trouble, but she wouldn't have traded her life for anything.

But nothing lasts forever, and changes are a natural part of life. For Hermione Granger, this change occurred in the form of a move to California, and a change of identity that would be a key factor in the years to come.

It all started on a hot summer day, no too long ago. Everything in the Granger household was normal. Joyce and Hank, Hermione's parents, were at work (they were dentists), Dawn was out riding her bike with some friends, and Hermione was studying. Someone knocked on the door, and Hermione went downstairs to answer it.

A middle-aged man in a tweed suit stood on the doorstep. He seemed to exude a certain rigid air that Hermione felt a certain kinship to. After all, part of the infamous Gryffindor Trio or not, Hermione Granger still held the word of an authority figure as law, and would always adhere to any rules they set down. The man introduced himself as Ian Travers and asked if her parents were home. When he was told they were not, he said that he would be back tomorrow to speak to them.

Hermione thought nothing of it, as she couldn't picture a Death Eater disguised as a Muggle. True to his word, Ian came back the next day and spoke to Hermione and her parents. He told them that she was in great danger, and had the potential to become a Slayer, whatever that was. He also said that there were evil things in the world that tried to kill Potential Slayers before they were called, and so eliminate a prospective threat. Ian said that the only reason she wasn't in danger before was because of the timing. The magic in Hermione's blood hid her from the tracking spells, and that, combined with her young age, would have stopped her from being located, as the spells the Watcher's Council-another thing Hermione was clueless about- employed tracked Potentials with the greatest probability of being a Slayer first, and would have skipped her.

Then, as Hermione got older, she was at school most of the time, and the Council had long known that the magical interference at Hogwarts prevented Potentials from being located. Ian told the three oldest Grangers that they would have to move away, change their names, and go into hiding, as now Hermione's name was at the top of the list for becoming a Slayer, and demons would be coming after her. They agreed, figuring that he meant for them to move to a different part of the country, nothing too drastic.

Everyone was surprised when Ian arranged for them to move to Los Angeles. Hermione protested, and Ian threatened to take her away from her family to train in isolation, something the young girl really didn't want to happen. He told her to change her appearance and tell no one where she was going. Still with a general belief in the good of all things authoritarian, Hermione complied, fear adding to her already determined personality. With the unwavering resolve apparent in her schoolwork, Hermione worked hard at distancing herself from the person she had been, and into the person the Council wanted her to be- Buffy Anne Summers.

But gone was her unending belief in respecting authority. From the day she set foot on American soil, the girl who had been the brightest witch of her year swore that she would make her own decisions, and they would be the ones that were right for her. That decision was only strengthened as she saw what the Council's actions did to her family.

Hank Granger- now Summers- had been a loving father, devoted husband, good friend, and a superb dentist. But the move to Los Angeles had detrimental effects on his life. In London, he'd had a fairly well-known dental practice, which he ran along with his wife. But in LA, he had to start out again, and the strain of trying to make do got to him. Especially, after Joyce quit the practice to pursue a career in art, something that she'd wanted to do for years. The move was the subject of many arguments, and Hermione was often the blame. In late June, almost a year after they left England, and less then a month after Hermione had been called as the Slayer, he divorced his wife.

Hermione never told her parents that she'd been called, fearing blame from her mother as well. When they three Summers women moved to Sunnydale, she saw no reason to. It would only dredge up bad memories and her mom and sister were having enough trouble as it was. Two years later, the hurt Joyce felt would explode, and wound an already shattered Slayer. Luckily, the wounds healed.

Years passed, life went on, and that unending thing called change continued to weave its way through time. Until one hot summer day, so similar to one eight years ago, Buffy Summers walked into her bedroom in Rome to find an astonishing sight.

"Hello, I'm your new liaison to the Powers That Be. I don't get paid to do this, so feel free to offer me copious amounts of monetary compensation to make up for my loss of an afterlife." A perky blonde said.

Buffy's eyes nearly popped out of her head. It really was impossible for a Scooby to get a happy ending.


	2. Chapter Two

**Title: Story of a Girl**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything. At all. If I did, I'd have more money then God and would never have canceled _BtVS_ and _Angel_.

**Summary: **A teenage girl is given an impossible destiny. She's taken away from everything she knows and everyone thinks she's dead. Eight years later, she's back, and in for one hell of a fight.

**Distribution: **Just ask if you want to use this.

**Spoilers: **All of _Buffy_ and _Angel_. Through GoF, and some minor ones from OotP.

"Anya?" Buffy asked incredulously.

The ex-Vengeance Demon beamed at her.

"Hi Buffy, I didn't know you were my new charge. Is Xander here?" Anya asked quickly, looking around as if he might pop up in the middle of Buffy's bedroom.

"Um, no. He's in Africa. Aren't you supposed to be dead?" she asked awkwardly, knowing how sensitive she had been about the subject after Willow resurrected her.

"Yes, but I got a job offer. I help guide people for the Powers and I don't have to get old and die for a long time." Anya explained.

"O.K. And now you're here?" Buffy asked, looking for confirmation.

Anya nodded.

"I need to sit down," Buffy muttered. "Xander was so right about the Lazarus Act's being über-weird."

"Can you call him? The Higher Plane was pretty boring, and I haven't had any sex in months." Anya said.

Buffy cringed. She _so _didn't want to hear that, no matter how glad she was to have Anya back. If it _was_ Anya she was talking to. Buffy got up from her bed and embraced Anya.

"Ooh, yay! You're not Evil Ghost Guy! Er, happy un-death." she said.

"Thank you," Anya said graciously, "I'm sure gifts are proper when celebrating special occasions."

Buffy laughed.

"I'll keep that in mind." She said dryly.

"Good. Now, call Xander so I can have lots of orgasms. Besides, we have to do that mortal reconciliation thing." Anya commanded, waving Buffy towards the phone.

"Right," the Slayer said dubiously as she reached for her cell phone, "good luck with that."

"Buffy?" Xander Harris asked.

"Yep. I've got some pretty wiggy news for you." She said.

"How wiggy? Xander asked, detecting something strange in her tone.

"Sunnydale freaky. Anya's alive." Buffy braced herself for his reaction.

"What! How? Are you sure? She's alive? Does she hate me? Andrew saw her die. What if she's the First? Is she alright? What did she say? How long has she been back?" the questions rushed out of Xander's mouth in quick succession.

"Horses? Hold them for a second. Yeah, I'm sure, she's not the First, I'm pretty sure she doesn't hate you 'cuz she wants to jump your bones, I have no clue how long she's been back, and she's a lesbian for the Powers That Screw Us- or don't, since Anya said you can't make with the monkey sex on the Higher Plate." Buffy said to him.

Xander let out a sigh of relief. She was alive. Anya was really and truly alive. He'd finally get to fix everything between them. She didn't hate him, either. He let out a little snort of laughter as he realized that Anya must've said something with her usual bluntness to prompt Buffy to say she wanted to jump his bones.

"Can I talk to her?" he asked eagerly.

"Yeah, hold on." Buffy agreed.

There was a moment's pause, then Anya's voice sounded on the line.

"Xander? Why aren't you here crying over my grave? You're supposed to be mourning me." She said.

Xander chuckled. If anyone had said that a few- but no, there was no one like Anya.

"I would be, except I thought your body was at the bottom of the biggest pothole on Earth." He apologized.

"Fine, but you better get over here really fast to comfort me." Xander could practically see her pout.

"I will, Ahn, don't worry. I'll be there as fast as I can." Xander promised.

"Are you sure?" she asked.

"Yes. I'll be there faster then a speeding bullet." He assured her.

"Good. Because I missed you. A lot." Xander could hear the sincerity in her voice. "And I can't go much longer without your penis."

Xander went red as he pictured what Buffy was thinking when she heard that, but inside, he was singing. Anya, _his_ one-of-a-kind Anya, was back, making her trademark comments like no one else ever could.

"I love you, Anya." He said, needing to let her know that after the way they had parted.

"I love you, too." She said softly, and he knew she meant it.

Dawn made her way to the apartment. She'd been hanging out with some friends from school when Buffy called. All her sister had said was two words: _get home_. That had immediately piqued her curiosity, and given her quite a bit to worry about, as well. What had happened? Was everyone alright? Buffy wouldn't have sounded so strange if they were. She raced up the stairs and unlocked the apartment door quickly.

"Buffy? What's wrong?" she yelled as she reflexively locked the door behind her. Sunnydale habits died hard.

Dawn raced through the apartment, looking for her sister. She headed towards Buffy's bedroom and collided with something soft and warm.

"Oof." She grunted.

"That's what you get for not watching where you're going." Anya said.

"Sorry, Anya." Dawn apologized.

Then, she processed who she'd run into.

"Anya!"

The girl in question rolled her eyes.

"Why does everyone keep doing that? I was dead, now I'm alive. I thought you people were used to this sort of thing." She complained.

"You're alive." Dawn repeated.

"_Yes_." Anya said exasperatedly.

"And you're not some creepy ghost wannabe who's trying to kill everyone?" Dawn asked.

"Well, since you just ran into me, I don't think I'm the First. Besides, Buffy got rid of him. She did, didn't she? Because I had better have died for a cause." Anya warned.

"You did. I mean, he is. I mean, you're not the First 'cuz the First is gone." Dawn managed to gasp out.

"Then what's the problem?" Anya wanted to know.

"No problem," Dawn squeaked, "Big heart attack, maybe. But no problem."

"Why are you squeaking? You sound like one of those little talking chipmunks from that TV show Xander liked to watch." Anya told the teenager.

"I do not sound like a chipmunk! Wait, Xander watches _Alvin and the Chipmunks_?"

"Yes, I find it pointless. Small, talking animals that look too much like rabbits are disturbing." Anya told the brunette.

"Okay, where's Buffy?" Dawn inquired.

"Talking to Willow and Kennedy. She's been on the phone for a while. Why is everyone so worked up about me being alive? I thought you would all be used to this." Anya stated.

"Hey! I'm taking this well!" Dawn protested. "At least I didn't stake you."

"Well, I suppose that's a good point." The blonde agreed.

Buffy came out of her room talking to someone on the phone.

"Yes, Giles, I'm _sure_ she's Anya." She paused while he said something to her.

"No, she's not! It's the middle of the afternoon and the windows are open. If she was, there would be a pile of not-Anya dust on the floor."

There was another pause. "I know it's a good point, everything I say has a point."

One more pause, and Giles clearly said something that offended her, because Buffy said, "Kissing Toast, Kakistos, they all sounded alike. Geez, excuse me for being a little more preoccupied with the psycho Slayer and vamps that wanted to kill me."

Dawn could practically see Giles rolling his eyes after that comment.

"Preoccupied is _not_ a big word for me! And I know exactly what it means, too. Oh, ha ha." She said sarcastically, then, under her breath, "Mean old guy."

Giles said something that must have been a rebuke of some sort, and Buffy rolled her eyes. Then she said,

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, we'll be there by tomorrow afternoon. You don't have to make with the heart attack, I promise she's not evil. Bye, Giles." She finished.

Giles said goodbye, too, and they both hung up.

"That's the last of us." The Slayer said, "Giles promised to tell Faith and Robin, and Kennedy's still trying to make sure Willow doesn't pass out."

"She's still with Kennedy?" Anya asked interestedly. "I didn't think it would last."

"I don't think any of us did, at first. But they've been going strong all year." Buffy conceded.

"How do you think they have sex? After all, neither of them have penises." the ex-vengeance demon wondered.

"Anya! Little sister in the room." Buffy reminded her, alarmed.

Dawn snorted.

"I'm not a little kid, you know. Besides, I was there for our last night in Sunnydale. Everyone was getting it on, and you could hear it." the teenager pointed out.

"_Everyone_?" Buffy asked, her eyes narrowing.

"Not me!" Dawn assured her older sister hurriedly, "I mean who would've been left, anyway. Andrew? Or one of the Potentials? God, Buffy, I don't swing that way. It's a strictly Will and Kennedy department."

Buffy closed her eyes.

"You know, I'm gonna forget you said that, and you're going to block anything you know about sex from your mind." Buffy said firmly.

"Weren't you having sex with Angel when you were seventeen?" Anya asked curiously.

Buffy's eyes popped open.

"NO!" she denied quickly. "I waited a long, long, _long_ time to do that, and it still turned out badly. I was nowhere _near_ Dawn's age when I did."

"Really? Xander said that you had just turned seventeen, then evil Angel came out, so you had to have been seventeen. Unless you were sixteen," she tacked on as an afterthought.

"You know, we have to pack. We're going to London to see Giles. Dawnie, go to your room and make with the packing." Buffy instructed.

"Sure, Buffy," Dawn agreed with a grin, "Wanna help me, Anya? Maybe you can tell me some more of what Xander told you."

"Okay," Anya consented.

"What? No. I mean, you can't, because… you have to help me pack. I suck at um, folding. So you should fold for me." Buffy finished lamely.

"I don't see why," Anya said reasonably, " you've never had trouble with packing before, and Dawn's younger, so she'd need more help."

"Uh huh," Dawn said, "come on Anya."

The former demon followed the girl to her room. Buffy groaned once Dawn's door shut. Something told her that this wasn't going to turn out well. If anything, by the time they all reached London, she'd have died from insanity.


	3. Chapter Three

**Title: Story of a Girl**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything. At all. If I did, I'd have more money then God and would never have canceled _BtVS_ and _Angel_.

**Summary: **A teenage girl is given an impossible destiny. She's taken away from everything she knows and everyone thinks she's dead. Eight years later, she's back, and in for one hell of a fight.

**Distribution: **Just ask if you want to use this.

**Spoilers: **All of _Buffy_ and _Angel_. Through GoF, and some minor ones from OotP.

**a/n:** Please, _please_, PLEASE, PLEASE review! Thanks to everyone who already did!**Etoile Star** can you tell me some of those Hermione is the Slayer stories? I just read one, and I loved it so much I decided to write my own… with a twist. Same goes for everyone else!

* * *

"Wow, Giles has really done a lot with the place, hasn't he?" Willow Rosenberg asked her girlfriend.

"Yeah, he has." The dark-haired Slayer agreed as the two of them walked into the main office of the Watcher's Council.

The Council- namely the Council's new Board of Directors, the Scooby Gang- had had to buy a new building for the London Headquarters after the First blew the original one up. Unfortunately, Giles was still lamenting the loss of so many precious books and artifacts, and Willow knew that everyone else would be, too, by the time of the next apocalypse.

As it was, the Wiccan couldn't help but admire what the Watcher had done in the year since they'd left Sunnydale. To her, it seemed like the office had been running for years, and Willow wondered if Giles had been getting any sleep since he moved to London. Kennedy grabbed her hand as they stepped out of the elevator. A young blonde sat at a circular desk in front of what seemed to be Giles' door. The two lovers walked over to her.

"We're here to see Giles," Willow told the receptionist, "I mean, Mr. Giles." She quickly amended, unsure of how the "stiff-upper-lippy" Englishwoman addressed her new boss.

The secretary smiled.

"Ms. Rosenberg and Ms. Carter, I presume?" she asked in a friendly tone.

The two of them nodded.

"Go right in, the others are waiting for you." She instructed.

They complied and walked through the door behind her. Giles, Buffy, Dawn, Xander, and Anya were gathered around a table. The long polished table would've been an impressive piece of furniture had it not been covered by pizza boxes, candy wrappers, books, and soda cans. It was what they all expected when it came to Giles. _Not_.

Kennedy whistled.

"Whoa, Giles, what happened here?" she asked in disbelief.

The girl had known him for little over a year, and in that time it had become abundantly clear to her that the Head Watcher appreciated a neat and orderly anything. It had amazed Kennedy last year when he managed to keep his sleeping space clean, despite twenty-odd teenage girls running all over the place. It was practically supernatural.

"Hurricane Research." Xander answered for Giles.

"Research? On what? Is the world ending?" Willow asked, only half-joking.

"If it was we'd have donuts." Dawn pointed out.

Willow let out a relaxed sigh, then realized something. She quickly walked over to Anya, practically pulled her out of the chair, and gave her a big hug.

"I'm glad you're back." She told the ex-demon.

Anya looked pleased.

"Thank you, I'm glad someone did." For some reason, Anya looked over at Giles indignantly.

The Watcher in question threw his hands up exasperatedly.

"I already apologized for that!" he said, frustrated.

Willow noticed that the other Scoobies were trying to hide grins. Trying and failing, to be precise.

"Apologized for what?" Kennedy asked curiously, voicing Willow's thoughts.

Giles turned red, and Anya looked even angrier then before.

"For mistaking _me_, connection to the Powers and 1123 year old ex-vengeance demon for a mortal _secretary_!" she fumed.

"It was a common mistake! You do look quite a bit like Emily." Giles retorted.

Dawn and Buffy motioned the other women to the last two seats at the table. Willow and Kennedy took the hint and sat down opposite to the giggling sisters.

"When we got here, Giles thought Anya was his secretary," Dawn explained, "she didn't like being told to get him some coffee, call down to Mystical Entities and see if there's been any activity by the first, and find out when we were getting here."

Willow and Kennedy were hard-pressed to hide their own giggles. They could just imagine the expression on the 1100 year old ex-demon's face. She'd had problems enough with being patronized as a mortal, now that she worked for the so-called Higher Powers, she'd be downright furious. The liaison had probably gone into a huge rant about the respect she deserved being what she was, and then trailed off into stories about her Vengeance Demon days that no one wanted to hear.

"What are we researching?" Kennedy asked.

"Nothing big," Buffy answered. "Just want to see what's going to happen to Anya now that she works for the Powers That Screw Us. We've found a few cases about it happening before, but they're all way screwy."

"How?" Willow asked, alarmed.

Xander had been devastated without Anya, and now that she was back he finally seemed like himself again. Willow didn't want him to go back to the depression, and she didn't want to lose Anya. Through the years, she had actually come to enjoy the blonde's blunt, occasionally obscene, anecdotes and despite some past differences, considered her a friend.

Buffy guessed what she was thinking.

"None of it's bad," she assured her friend, "we just want to make sure, though. So far, she's got the vampy age thing, Cordy's brain trips, and maybe a couple of other little goodies, but not everyone gets them."

"Oh," Willow said, relieved.

"So, how are things going with Anya and Xander?" Kennedy whispered conspiratorially.

Both Dawn's and Buffy's grins grew considerably wider, and they got matching mischievous twinkles in their eyes. In moments like this, it was clearly evident that they were, in fact, sisters. While neither of them shared many common features, the expressions on their faces were exactly alike to a point where it was almost eerie.

"Well, they have been sharing a room since Xander got here." Dawn said slyly.

"And the sex talk is back." Buffy chimed in.

"Plus, Xander took her out to dinner just last night." Dawn added.

"Took them long enough," Willow muttered.

Buffy nodded emphatically. She opened her mouth to comment, but was interrupted by Xander's frantic shout.

"What the hell? _Anya_!" he yelled, running over to her.

At first, Willow couldn't tell what was wrong, Anya looked perfectly fine. She was standing next to Giles, and it looked like their pseudo-argument had ended. The redhead couldn't figure out why Giles was gaping at the former Vengeance Demon, either, or why Xander was tugging on Anya's arm. Then her mind registered something- Anya wasn't standing anywhere, she was _floating_, and her body was a good half a foot off of the ground.

The Wicca's eyes widened and she got out of her chair quickly, unsure of what she was going to do, but feeling the need to do _something_, _anything_ at all to help. Her companions had clearly reached the same conclusion, as Kennedy, Buffy, and Dawn were all standing, too, and gaping at the sight of Anya's still form. Then, Anya floated back to the ground and her eyes opened.

"We have to go save horny teenagers from a whole lot of demons." She said matter-of-factly.

All they could do was gape at her, Xander was so surprised that he was still holding onto her arm.



Anya crept through the dark night, following one of the new Slayers. What was her name again? She remembered it had rhymed with penis. Oh, yes, that was it, _Venus_. The new liaison wished she didn't have to be here, but she clearly had no choice. After all, Anya was the only one who could make sure that they saved the right people and weren't leaving anyone to die.

The former demon wondered why she'd gotten that vision. All of the Scoobies had, actually, since this was already on the patrol route of two new Slayers- Venus and Mel. They figured that something would've happened to prevent the Slayers from saving them, though, and had left it at that, for the time being, since there were people to save, and all. Privately, Anya wondered if there was more to it then that. She'd gotten the feeling of something _heavy_, which was the only way to describe it. Thick and heavy, like a cloak or a blanket covering something.

The blonde let out a sigh of frustration. _Why_ hadn't Cordelia told her how confusing the visions were? Hell, why hadn't she sent a vision that made more sense?

_Because the future's unclear, you dumbass. Every choice made by every person can change it. The visions are as much as we can see. Besides, the others would probably fire me if I made something easy._

_I liked the irrational, Xander-hating version of you better,_ Anya mentally grumbled, Still, she couldn't help the smile tugging at her lips.

_Actually, when you met me, I didn't hate your boyfriend, I was just pissed off that he wanted to make out with Willow instead of me. Not to mention seriously pissed off at the lack of smoochies._

_Hey! Keep your mind away from my Xander!_ Anya thought indignantly.

She could practically see the eye roll that accompanied the next statement.

_Pfft! I am _so_ over him! And you should be glad I didn't get over him like you did._

_Shut up,_ Anya thought, annoyed.

_Normally, I'd hang around just for that, but I've got work to do, and so do you. Just don't think that won't come back to bite you in the ass._

Anya was about to send a mental reply, but her focus was snatched by the fight going on. Especially when a large, yellow head with a horn sticking out of it, nearly hit her.

"Sorry!" Dawn yelled from across the room, where the rest of the demon lay at her feet.

Anya didn't bother to reply to her as another demon was already headed towards the Key, and an ugly blue guy was already in front of the liaison, herself. She recognized the breed from her Vengeance Demon days. They weren't too smart, or fast, but they were strong, and had one goal in life- food. This one was blue, which meant it was female, as opposed to the yellow males.

The blonde hefted her axe and sung at the creature's abdomen. It sliced through the flesh with a hiss. The demon moved towards her, but Anya ducked under on of its three arms and moved behind it. She slashed at the back of its knees to bring the monster down to a level where her axe could reach its head. It let out a little shriek of pain that was cut short when she swung her axe through its neck.

"Well, that was easy." She commented to no one.

The others were having the same luck. She could see five or six corpses on the floor of the warehouse, and the others were rapidly killing the remaining eight or nine, which made her wonder again, what was the point of this? She noticed one of the kids was reaching in their pocket for something. From what she could see of the handle poking out of the pocket, it looked like a knife. Anya quickly ran over to them.

"You can't fight them, get out of here!" she commanded, before turning to fight the demon that had been advancing on them.

The two teens, wide-eyed and fearful, quickly complied and ran out of the ware house as fast as they could. Anya briefly had time to think that they had probably been frozen in shock, since they hadn't attempted to leave earlier, before the he-beast attacked.

It lowered its head as it charged, the horn protruding from the top of its head in much the same manner as a bull's. She quickly dodged it and tried to decapitate the demon, but it saw what she was doing and changed direction, causing her axe-stroke to fall too wide. It charged again, and the only thing that stopped Anya from being skewered into the corner she had backed herself into was Buffy.

The blonde Slayer literally jumped on top of it in order to stop the monstrous thing from getting to Anya. It lashed out at her with its claws, but the Slayer ignored the pain and chopped its hand off. Then she back flipped off of it, with one hand still holding onto the demon's back, causing it to be pulled through the air with her, and land right behind Buffy. She spun around before the creature could get up and calmly sunk her sword into its face, letting it go all the way through the back of the skull. Once the twitching stopped, Buffy pulled the blade out of the floor where it had stuck and turned to Anya.

"Isn't it more fun when it's vamps? I mean, these things can't even talk, let alone pun. And look at all the goo on my new shirt!" she complained.

Anya nodded wholeheartedly as she saw the blackish-brown slime all over her own clothes. Then she looked up to assess the damage to everyone else. No one was seriously hurt, beyond a few scrapes, and they were clearly wondering why it had been such an easy fight. Xander came over to her anxiously.

"You alright, Ahn?" he asked, looking her over for any wounds.

"No," she answered him, "none of us are. Look at our clothes!"

"Here, here!" Dawn agreed from where she stood with Buffy.

Xander quirked a smile.

"Why don't we go heal you with the power of Council reimbursement and six-figure salaries?" he asked her, sensing that she might start one of her infamous "money is important, and fighting evil gets rid of it all" speeches.

As always, Anya perked up instantly at the thought of money. And the new clothes were always an added bonus. There was something so universal and _normal_ about money that it always mentally soothed her, while at the same time provoking her into a frenzy of action. Be it making money, or spending it, or just looking at it. For some reason, Xander still found it endlessly funny that she kept a hundred dollars just for that. Oh well, humans were strange, and that was why she loved this human, anyway. He was perfect.

Anya beamed at her boyfriend and said,

"What are we waiting for? Come on, people, we have money to burn!"

Giles visibly cringed as he followed her out the door. With the Scoobies around, there would be no Council funds left, and with Anya, in particular, around, there would be a constant source of replenishment coming from the Anya Jenkins Capitalist Magick Stores around the world. He shook his head, at least things never got boring when he was around the people he had come to look upon as his children.



He watched the people intently as they left the warehouse. Interesting, he'd never seen anyone fight like that, and only one of them had used magic of any sort. Who were these people? And why had they saved the two teenagers? Why had they done his job for him? He wanted answers, and he wouldn't be the only one. He walked around the warehouse after the strangers were gone, the others followed him. They all fanned out, looking for clues as to the foreigners'- for they were clearly American, except the man with the crossbow and the axe- identities.

He stopped when he saw a small amount of blood on the ground. It wasn't too far from the corpse of a large yellow monster. It took a moment for him to realize that this was where the small blonde woman had saved the other one from being killed. He vaguely remembered watching her get cut, and had been about to go help before she took care of the problem herself. He used a quick spell to conjure a vial, and another to put the blood into the vial. Finally, he cast a sterilizing charm on both the vial and its contents, so as to decontaminate it. Quietly, he walked away, gesturing to the others to follow.


	4. Chapter Four

**Title: Story of a Girl**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything. At all. If I did, I'd have more money then God and would never have canceled _BtVS_ and _Angel_.

**Summary: **A teenage girl is given an impossible destiny. She's taken away from everything she knows and everyone thinks she's dead. Eight years later, she's back, and in for one hell of a fight.

**Distribution: **Just ask if you want to use this.

**Spoilers: **All of _Buffy_ and _Angel_. Through GoF, and some minor ones from OotP.

**a/n: **Again, please review, and also, thanks to everyone who already has! **Alen Pitt**, Dawn was never told about her sister's whole "witchiness" factor. Why? Because when Hermione went to Hogwarts, she was 5, and her parents kind of used the whole "Dumbledore" philosophy when it came to telling her. 6 is no better then 5, etc. etc. Then, they figured that if Dawn didn't/did get a letter from Hogwarts (and she would've thanks to the Key thing turning her into a living magical battery) she'd be old enough to know, one way or the other. Remember, boarding schools are fairly common in England. Oh, and you're right, it _was_ frustrating for Hermione/Buffy, though no one will find out how much until _way_ farther on in the story. And for the looks difference, I'm going for the book description, so her features are unclear, and Buffy's actual face could easily be anyone else's, plus, I'm operating on the assumption that her hair darkened as she got older (trust me when I say, you only have to look at both my pictures, and some of my friends' to tell just how easily that could happen) and it bleached in the California sun, top that with a little hair dye and you've got Buffy. Hope that clears things up for you.

* * *

"Professor, you should've seen them, they were incredible." Harry Potter insisted.

"How so?" the Headmaster asked.

"All of them were fighting the demons as easily as if they were flying," he explained, "and they actually seemed used to it, some of them were actually complaining about the blood on their clothes!"

Dumbledore looked intrigued.

"Can you tell if they might be useful allies?" he questioned.

"I think so, they definitely couldn't be working for Voldemort if they saved those two kids from monsters." Was the reply.

A couple of the Order's newest members flinched at hearing the Dark wizard's name said out loud.

"How d'you think they knew what was going on, anyway?" Ronald Weasley, Harry's best friend, asked.

"Yeah, they must've known somehow, how else would they have gotten the weapons? You said only one of them used magic." Fred Weasley, Ron's older brother, pondered.

"I don't know how they knew to be there," Harry said honestly, "and I don't think the witch used magic to conjure up the weapons. They were too detailed, and she didn't even have a wand."

"No wand?" Albus had a pensive expression on his face. "Are you sure?"

Harry nodded affirmative.

"Curious." The aging wizard murmured, and Harry was irresistibly reminded of Mr. Ollivander, the wand maker.

He looked up at them a few minutes later.

"What did you say the young man said at the end?" Dumbledore asked.

"Er, something like 'Get healed with Council money and salaries'?" he answered uncertainly.

"That's certainly an odd thing to say, even for a Muggle." Minerva McGonagall remarked.

Harry half-expected Snape to make some comment about how he'd gotten the words wrong, but he, too, had an expression of deep thought on his face. The Headmaster had gone back to thinking- well, whatever it was he had been thinking, you could never tell with Albus Dumbledore.

Kingsley Shacklebolt, an Auror, said,

"Could they be a threat to us? We don't really know much about them. Should we even approach these monster hunters? For all we know, they could want nothing to with us." He pointed out.

"We don't even know where to find these people," Remus reminded him. "All we know is that they're good people who obviously have some skills and could be useful allies against Voldemort."

"Maybe we should try to find them, set someone to follow them until we know enough to see if they want to help us." Ginny, really Ginevra, Weasley, and Ron's younger sister, suggested.

"That'd be a good idea, except we have no clue where to start, and we really don't have enough people to spare for the job. The Death Eaters are still attacking almost every night." Draco Malfoy, a one-time enemy, said.

Harry remembered a time when Draco wouldn't have been caught dead- literally, knowing his father- in the same room with the people he considered family now. That had all changed in fifth year. Granted, it had been a slow process, and neither party involved had wanted anything to do with each other, at first, but as he got older, and closer to becoming a Death Eater, the pale boy had grown disgusted with what that entailed. The Malfoy pride, alone, had been enough of a cause for him to balk at kissing anyone's robes, forget about the conscience he really did have. Now, he was actually one of Harry's best friends, and for the most part, his barbs weren't actually cruel, even if they were mildly insulting.

It felt like so long since those comparatively care-free days when he'd been part of Hogwarts' very own detective agency, and right and wring were so easily defined. There had been no puzzles then, no good Slytherins, or dead friends. Now, here he was, fighting a war only he could finally end. Once upon a time he would've been awed to be a part of the Order, filled with that subconscious childhood desire to help, feel grown up, respected, and useful. Now he fought to save lives, and possibly lose his own.

"_Harry_!" Mrs. Weasley's voice broke through his musings.

"Er, sorry," he apologized sheepishly, "I didn't hear you."

"That's obvious." Draco drawled.

Harry stuck his tongue out at the man and got a stomp on the foot in return.

"Ow!" he exclaimed.

"What you get for messing with me, you ponce." Draco retorted, but Harry could see the mischief dancing in his eyes.

"Wanker," he muttered.

"Harry," Mrs. Weasley said sternly, "Draco."

"Sorry," they both said immediately.

That seemed to satisfy Mrs. Weasley, for she continued with what she'd been saying before Harry had spaced out.

"I wanted to know if you found anything else out while you were at the warehouse." She repeated.

"No," Harry answered, "Wait, yes, I did."

He fished around in the pockets of his robes for a few moments before pulling out a clear glass vial filled with blood.

"I was hoping Snape could do that potion again, the one that helped us figure out who some of the new Death Eaters were." He explained.

Both Dumbledore and Snape looked up at this statement.

"Excellent idea, Harry." Dumbledore agreed.

"Yes, for once your plan makes sense." Snape said tersely, holding his hand out for the vial.

Harry had long ago learned that Snape was like that with just about everyone and simply handed the vial over to him. The second he did so, the Potions Master stood and walked out of the room without a word, robes billowing behind him in their usual melodramatic way. The all knew without being told that he was Flooing back to Hogwarts to get the potion supplies.

"While Severus is gone why don't we focus on the other items of importance?" Dumbledore proposed.

"The Death Eater activity still hasn't changed," Mr. Weasley reported. "There are several attacks each night, but it's never a lot of people at once."

"Fleur wants more wards put up around the house before the baby comes," Bill, the eldest Weasley child, said.

His wife, a beautiful woman by the name of Fleur, was currently nearing the end of her pregnancy, and therefore unable to make it to the Order meeting. With things the way they were, it was understandable that she'd want her newborn child to have more protection, especially since the Weasleys were among the most targeted members of the Order, and a new child would present the perfect opportunity for an attack.

"Of course," Dumbledore agreed, "I shall be along tomorrow. Is she doing well?"

Bill nodded.

"The Ministry is setting up more pointless measures in an effort to protect the public," Nymphadora Tonks, who threatened bodily harm to anyone who called her by her first name, snorted in derision. "They need more Aurors, and Fudge is at his wits' end trying to find them. He's putting recruits fresh out of Hogwarts on the field, with no training whatsoever."

Dorcas Meadows, an aging witch with a dry sense of humor, shook her head sadly.

"That will not turn out well," she said.

"No, it won't," Charlie Weasley, Ron's second-oldest brother, agreed.

"There are rumors of an attack on Hogwarts," Gemma Larson, a witch two years younger then Harry, offered.

"There are _always_ rumors of an attack on Hogwarts." George, Fred's twin, said.

"I know that, but those were always circulating around the general public. This isn't some random scare, if anything, it's being kept quiet. The only reason I found out was through that Death Eater I captured last Monday. What was his name? Oh yeah, Goyle, thick as a troll, that one, but he was willing to blab it all to keep out of Azkaban. He said something about Voldemort wanting the school out of the way." Gemma recalled.

"That's not good." Allen Goodman, another relatively new recruit, stated the obvious.

"No, you think? Stupid git," Draco said under his breath.

Allen looked over at him, but seeing no evidence in the blonde's expression, decided he hadn't heard what he thought, and turned away. Harry, Ron, and Ginny stifled laughs. He'd heard _exactly_ what he thought he had.

"That would be dangerous, indeed, we'll have to increase the security on the school considerably," Dumbledore said grimly. "Is there anything else of importance?"

Everyone shook their heads no.

"He's lying low again, just like he was after fourth- after he first came back." Ron said haltingly.

Despite the years, the two remaining members of the one-time trio still had trouble thinking of their dead friend. They avoided saying her name at all costs, and tried to avoid anything connected to Fourth Year in general. No one had ever found out what had happened to the Granger family. Most of the world thought that they had been murdered by Voldemort. The time frame certainly fit, he had just been resurrected, then, and had been trying to lie low. What better way stop Harry then kill one of his best friends? And Harry was more then willing to bet that Lucius Malfoy could've easily faked the Muggle records that said they died in, of all the irony, a car crash. They'd never found a car, a body, or any way to prove Voldemort as the culprit.

Snape came back into the room about ten minutes later, carrying his precious potion ingredients. He set the items out on the table and transfigured a cauldron out of a small matchbook from his pocket. He conjured a small portable flame, the kind that had once been Hermione's specialty. They all wisely chose to keep silent as he assembled the ingredients and put them into the cauldron, all in the exact order dictated by the rather complicate potion. He systematically stirred and poured for half an hour until it was time for the final stage. Snape carefully picked the vial up and uncorked it. He poured the young woman's blood into the potion carefully, there was so little that he couldn't afford to spill a drop of it. Finally, he did the last thing required for the revealing potion to work. Saying the simple spell was the least complex part of the potion.

"_Revealo_." He said, putting the tip of his wand into the potion.

The liquid began to swirl around the tip of Snape's wand, a large swirl that rose up the wand and into the air like a small, liquid tornado. After a few seconds the swirling stopped and the potion flattened out in the air. It was silvery in color, and hanging in the air, it looked like one of the new plasma televisions that the Muggles had. People seated at the farthest end of the table moved so they could see the "screen".

A moment's pause, and then the images began, flashes of the woman's life from when the blood had left her body to her birth. It was only the important ones, the memories that had left so much of an impact on her to leave an impression in her very blood. In most people, there were only two or three memories like that, if you were a Death Eater or an Auror, there were a few more. And the least strange thing about the results of the potion for the small blonde was that she had around a dozen.

The first flash appeared. It was the remains of what looked like a battle, and there was a man who looked almost exactly Draco. He had an amulet around his neck.

_"I love you." She told him._

_"No you don't," he answered, "but thanks for saying it."_

Then he burned up.

The second flash involved a truly evil looking young woman. She had china pale skin with black veins showing through, and unnaturally dark hair and eyes.

Flash Number Three, was… well, it was odd. She was singing.

There was also another monster there, dressed in a suit, of all things.

_"I think I was in heaven,"_ the blonde sang in a mournful voice.

Flash Four, a hand shot out of the ground. The ground over a grave. Harry caught a sight of the headstone. _Buffy Summers, 1981-2002 "She saved the world a lot"_, it read.

The woman clawed her way out of the ground, ripping and tearing her way to the surface with an almost animalistic savagery. She stood up and stared at the headstone uncomprehendingly for a moment.

Five, she was standing on top of something, they couldn't tell what.

_"Dawn, the hardest thing in this world is to live in it." she said._

A teenage girl with numerous cuts all over her was sobbing. Then the blonde took a swan dive over the edge of whatever she was standing on.

Ginny and some others gasped.

Flash number six, she was looking down at the body of a woman on the floor.

_"Mom?" she asked._

Flash Seven, she locked eyes with a handsome man for a moment, before he walked away.

Flash Eight, the girl was looking at a dark-haired teen about the same age. Then they were both staring at the body of a small man, clearly dead, with expressions of horror on their faces.

Flash Nine, she was with a tall, dark, and handsome, man, the same from before.

_"I love you."_ She whispered, before stabbing him.

Ten, she's being brought back to life by a young man while the man from earlier looked on.

_"In every generation there is a Chosen One. She alone will stand against the vampires, the demons, and the forces of darkness. She is the Slayer."_

The eleventh flash, she's in a car with the dead woman from earlier and the girl who was there when she jumped.

_"Welcome To Sunnydale," a sign reads._

Flash Twelve,

"_Welcome to America," she whispers to herself as she gets off of a plane. _

The voice was distinctly English, as opposed to the American accent from earlier, or later, depending on how you looked at it. Harry recoiled as he saw her face, memories flashing through his mind. She was young, midway through her teens, the hair straightened, but still light brown, almost dirty blonde, with little golden highlights running through it. The features hadn't changed over time, but she suddenly seemed so recognizable. For one thing, the girl was younger, still wearing the baggy clothes which she'd always felt comfortable in. For another, no one had ever pictured the studious, calm, plain, intelligent young girl as one of the Valley Girls that had been the stereotype of all blondes during their childhood. The voice was easy to place, the mature, solemn, innocent yet intelligent, tone that had once scolded and advised him for years. _Hermione_.

The next flash, a man in his early- to mid-thirties was speaking to her.

"_Miss Granger, I can assure you that this is in your best interest. You'll be in grave danger should you continue to live here," he told her. _

The words were polite enough, but the condescending tone was enough to make Hermione bristle.

"_I don't why we have to move all the way to _America_!" Hermione protested hotly, 'or the need for an identity change, or why I can't tell my friends!"_

"_These methods have worked for the years, and they are for your own good, as well as the welfare of your friends. If some evil decides to target them because of you, magic would be powerless to stop it." he hissed angrily._

"_How do you know that?" Hermione shot back. "You're a Muggle!"_

"_I know that anything that decides to target a potential Slayer- especially one with a high chance of being called, has to have a lot more power than any foe the Wizarding World has ever faced. And the identity change will protect your family, as well, for God's sake, think of someone besides yourself," he told her._

"_Who are you to tell me what to do?" the bushy haired witch demanded._

"_Someone who can have you shipped off to the Caribbean to train in isolation with no one but your Watcher, no outside communication, and no luxuries at all. Furthermore, I could have those precious friends of yours, through your Headmaster, that you _chose_ to go to an exclusive boarding school with an excellent academics program." He threatened._

"_My parents would never allow that." Hermione reminded him angrily. _

"_I think they would," the man said smoothly, his composure back, "especially if they were told that it was for your own safety, and that you could contact and visit them if you should so choose. Too bad that "you" will send them a letter a week later, telling them that your studies are amazing and you don't want to visit for a little while," Hermione gaped at him in horror, but he continued, "then, later on, "you" will be_ so_ engrossed by your lessons that you will just keep putting off those visits, until your family finally gives up, feeling as betrayed as those friends of yours. Would you like for that to happen?" he asked._

By now, all of the fight had gone out of the teenager, and frankly, no one could blame her. What could she do against threats like that, especially since they could come true in an instant. If Harry had his parents back, he would cling to them no matter what the cost. Around him, the others watching Hermione's life were having similar thoughts.

"_No_." she said softly.

"_Good,"_ he said before departing.

Flash fourteen, she was dropping down onto the Devil's Snare in the Trio's First Year. Harry and Ron were already entangled in the deadly plant's grasp, although they didn't know it.

Flash fifteen, the sorting hat called out Gryffindor.

Flash sixteen, Hermione was opening her Hogwarts letter.

Seventeen, a small blonde girl, with curly hair the same shade as her twenty-something self, and a few shades lighter than her fourteen year old self, was holding a small baby while her proud parents looked on proudly.

Then the image began to waver, the screen's original silver color seeping through the frozen color image. The screen began to wobble and shake. The writhing grew more and more violent, until little cracks began to appear in the molten liquid. The cracks deepened until little pieces of the screen, if it could still be called that, began to break off and hover in the air. The same thing that had happened to the screen was inflicted upon the individual pieces until, ten minutes later, the one-time screen had completely dissolved.

For a few minutes everyone, including Dumbledore, just stared in shock, their eyes fixed on the place where the silvery viewing screen had once been. Then Ron summed all of their collective emotions up with two carefully chosen words.

"_Bloody hell._"

Dumbledore peered at him over his half-moon glasses, his vibrant blue eyes reflecting just about every emotion on the spectrum.

"Well said, Mr. Weasley, very well said."


	5. Chapter Five

**Title: Story of a Girl**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything. At all. If I did, I'd have more money then God and would never have canceled _BtVS_ and _Angel_.

**Summary: **A teenage girl is given an impossible destiny. She's taken away from everything she knows and everyone thinks she's dead. Eight years later, she's back, and in for one hell of a fight.

**Distribution: **Just ask if you want to use this.

**Spoilers: **All of _Buffy_ and _Angel_. Through GoF, and some minor ones from OotP.

**a/n: Etoile Star**, thanks so much for your help. Everyone else, thanks for all the reviews! Oh, oh, and keep reviewing! Reviews make me _really_ happy! I hope you like this chapter! BTW, I own a pair of Scooby Doo pajamas, exactly like the pink ones described, and I've faithfully bought a pair every year since I was 4. And, no, you can't make fun of me for that, my five foot tall stuffed Scooby is the subject of enough jokes, thank you very much. Oh, and Sirius is _not_ dead, I figured that losing Hermione would've been enough angst for one year. And just so you're not wondering, because I don't think I explained this in the last chapter. Sirius and Remus were at Hogwarts during the full moon, which was the same time that the demons the Scoobies fought fed the most. And just in case anyone was wondering, the original Council bastards sent Dumbledore (since he was the school's Headmaster) a letter saying that all of Hermione's family had died in a plane crash on the way back home from Spain, where they'd been vacationing until about a week before Chapter One. Since the last letter Hermione sent to anyone was from Spain, and Harry was busy replying when she "died", and a plane really did crash that week, everyone believed that she was dead. And Buffy will be called Buffy for the most part of this fic, it's who she is, now. Enough things have happened to her to make Hermione change, although Harry and the Hogwarts crew will call her Hermione. Read between the lines on that one, that's the biggest hint I'll give you. There's a few things I'm mentioning in this chapter that will be pretty important _much_ later on in the story, but I'm not telling you what they are. It'll all make sense in the end.

* * *

How on earth had he gotten himself into this?

That was the sixty-seventh time Rupert Giles had asked himself that question on that night, alone. Normally, when he was asking himself that question, Giles was just regaining consciousness to find himself being held hostage by some demonic cult or the other. This time, the Watcher wasn't anywhere _near_ that lucky. Giles would rather be a Fyarl demon again then be in this particular situation.

All of the Scoobies, including Andrew, surprisingly, were gathered in the Summers' living room, all clad in their most outlandish _pajamas_. And it wasn't as if Giles could have preserved the last _shred_ of his dignity by wearing a decent pair of pajamas, but no, Willow had to go and cast a spell making everyone who didn't wear their most embarrassing pair of pajamas grow elephant ears for the night. If Giles hadn't seen her cast the spell _and _hear her implore Makli, the patron goddess of festivals and happy times according to the Aztecs, to let her will be done, he would've worn a nice, _sensible_ pair of pajamas to the infernal pajama movie night.

It wasn't even his fault that he'd bought the dratted pajamas, either. It was all Xander's fault, Xander and his stupid nickname for them all. If the boy had chosen any name _but_ the _Scooby_ Gang, the pajamas might not have caught his eye, and he wouldn't have decided to buy them, just for the hell of it. He wasn't the only one who had fallen prey to the seductive lure of Scooby Doo pajamas. His own were actually the least embarrassing of them all, and it seemed that the others hadn't told a soul about their own dirty little pajama secret. They hadn't even told their respective partners about them.

Buffy and Dawn's reactions to each other's choice of nightwear had been amusing, to say the least. Apparently, neither one of them had realized that they had bought the same pajamas. Bright pink, in this case, with pictures of the cartoon dog's head plastered all over them in different poses. A happy doggy grin, a howling position, and a mouthful of cheeseburger were all featured. Every single one of the aptly named group had come to Buffy's apartment in their Scooby wear.

Now they were all comfortably ensconced together on the large, sectional couch, covered in blankets, and with bowls full of hot popcorn resting precariously on their laps. The movie had just started, and the lights were out. Then the _singing_ began. Which led Giles to wonder yet again, how the hell had he ended up in this ridiculous situation?

After all, here he was, shoved onto a couch with the people he considered his children, all of them wearing pajamas with cartoon dogs on them, watching Hindu movie/musicals with indecipherable meanings. Of course, he knew exactly how he'd ended up sandwiched between his Slayer and her younger sister. Seven pairs of pleading eyes, seven begging voices, and the ever-present statements,

"We need you Giles,"

"All the fun would be gone if we don't get to see the look on your face when you watch one of these things,"

"Come on, where would we be without our fuddy duddy?"

"I'll give you all of the jellies the next time we're in research mode,"

Xander's ploy had done the trick. As soon as he'd gotten written proof of that last statement, witnessed and dated, he'd gone home to get changed. After all, maybe it wouldn't be that bad. And if it wasn't, he could honestly say that he enjoyed it next week, when he skipped "Star Wars" night. That way no one would be able to accuse him of being "sick" on purpose. Besides, Xander always made his way through the jellies faster then the other man could blink.

He shifted slightly in his seat in order to better balance the bowl of popcorn. Good Lord, was that woman singing to a Stavork he-beast? Giles' eyes widened for a second until he realized it was merely a camel with strangely colorful paint sprayed all over it- and a horn sticking out of it!

"What the bloody hell is going on?" Giles asked, staring at the scene incredulously.

A woman was singing a song that he could not understand for the life of him while doing a complicated dance routine from atop the camel. Said camel was doing a tap dance while a small, round man in a tuxedo looked on. Penguins had formed a circle around the camel and were singing and dancing, too. All of this was happening from atop what looked like a glacier.

"She's doing some kind of Dance of Joy because the camel-thing isn't dead, and it grew a horn and changed color," Willow said.

"And Penguin Guy is there because he saved the camel from dying when it choked on one of his pet penguins. Then the penguins started singing and the camel is floating now," Kennedy added.

"I can see that," Giles commented dryly.

"Why is the camel floating?" Andrew asked interestedly. "That's not possible, unless you use a gravity decimation laser, but I don't see one of those, unless that's the real purpose of that weird looking horn."

"Andrew!" was the reply to that ended that ramble.

"How come the penguins are singing? Did they get hit by that Sweet guy?" Buffy asked.

"I didn't see anyone summon anything," Dawn replied.

"No necklaces," Xander observed.

"I didn't see any summoning," Anya pointed out, "if anything, they look like a Miliscairn demon in penguin form."

Her companions looked a bit disturbed at the thought of demons disguised as penguins. Xander looked stricken as he thought of something.

"Can they hide as bunnies?" he asked.

Anya nodded.

"Of course, it's one of their favorite forms. Why do you think I hate those darned things so much? Pet one that doesn't like you and _bam_! Creepy little twitchy nosed rabbit turns into a giant demon with five rows of teeth that can chomp you up like a carrot," she replied.

Everyone else shuddered.

"Can we move on?" Dawn asked hurriedly, having second thoughts about why her pet rabbit, Furball, had always bitten so hard.

Giles nodded vigorously, "Yes, can't we?"

Anya shrugged.

"Suit yourself," the bunnyphobe said, turning back to the puzzling movie, "but don't blame me if you lose an arm- or your penis." She added as an afterthought.

Giles, Xander, and Andrew all blanched, while Willow, Kennedy, Dawn, and Buffy looked a bit disturbed as they tried to rid themselves of that particular mental image.

"Back to the crazy movie then," Buffy decided after a few minutes pause where the only sound was the television.

"Absolutely," Giles agreed hurriedly.

"Right there with you," Xander said, nodding his head furiously.

"I've never been happier to be gay," was all either Willow or Kennedy would say on the subject.

"I'm just gonna put that picture right next to what I learned in Math last year." Dawn said.

"Can someone use an Andorthian Mind Reliever on me?" Andrew asked, clutching his Darth Maul blanket up to his chest, as if the Star Wars blanket would protect him from the bad pictures.

"I have no idea what that is, but I'd like to request one, also," Giles concurred.

"It's movie time," Buffy said firmly, turning back to the screen.

Soon enough, the others complied, and turned back to the Indian film.

Harry paced in front of the fire impatiently. His emotions were all a tangled mess, anger and euphoria warring inside of him. Who the hell had the right to ruin Hermione's life, not to mention the lives of anyone who cared for her, and make choices that no one should make for another human being. Why had they decided to keep Hermione away from her friends for so long? How could that possibly be a good idea? Why on earth had they decided to tell people that she was dead?

And, most importantly, how could everyone have believed that she was dead? They should've known better, _someone_ should have noticed something off about the story they were fed. How could Dumbledore, the man who never missed a thing, overlook something so important, and condemn them all to eight years apart. It wasn't fair! Harry had thought that about a lot of things in his life and a lot of times, most of which he didn't like to reflect on, but this seemed to be truly needless. That pompous old git, and whoever the hell he worked for, had ripped Hermione out of their lives for no reason whatsoever.

Without warning, the dark-haired man picked up the nearest object- a miniature broomstick that one of Marguerite, Bill's daughter, had left behind- and flung it into the fire. What was taking the others so long? It didn't take an hour to put some passably decent Muggle clothes on, did it? No. So what had everyone been doing for so long?

Kingsley had come to Headquarters two days ago with news of Hermione's new location. 1421 Shipley Terrace, Apartment 201. From what Harry understood, Apartment 201 was a very pricey loft in a high-end district of London. He'd briefly had time to wonder how Hermione could afford a place like that before he realized they had been spending three weeks searching for Hermione when she had been in the same city as the Order all along. Judging by the looks on everyone's faces, Harry guessed he wasn't the only person just _slightly_ miffed about that. Of course, he'd been even more incensed when Dumbledore had made everyone spend two whole days deciding what to do about the new information, _if_ anyone should go meet Hermione, _who_ should go meet Hermione, _when_ they would go meet Hermione, and how the group chosen would _get_ to Hermione. Boring, pointless, and completely infuriating discussions, arguments, and debates of all kinds had filled the air at Grimmauld Place for the past two days, and, quite plainly, both Harry and Ron were well beyond the point of pissed off when a decision was finally made.

Harry, Ron, Ginny, Draco, Neville, and Tonks were the group settled upon. Five of them would be familiar faces to the undoubtedly lost and lonely witch, and Tonks was there as backup, and because she just plain wanted to meet the famous lost witch. After all, the clumsy Auror had heard stories about the last member of the broken Trio on and off for the past eight years, especially when someone was drunk, and it didn't hurt to talk about the people they'd all lost over the years.

Flooing and Apparating had been ruled out as methods of transportation. There was the off chance that the address could be wrong, or Hermione could have someone over. The witch, herself, could be unused to it after years of living like a Muggle, and might decide to attack them. So they were walking… in Muggle clothes… through a busy, crowded city, filled with people who actually knew what they were wearing. That was one of the reasons the Order had chosen to meet Hermione at night, that way there would be fewer people around to see a group of inexpertly dressed witches and wizards making their way through London. Harry was actually a bit afraid as to what the others would turn out wearing; it had been years since anyone in the Wizarding World had dressed like a Muggle. Voldemort and his anti-Muggle views had made dressing in anything less then formal dress robes dangerous, and marked a witch or wizard wearing anything else an easy target for any Death Eaters lurking in alleys. It had taken Harry long enough to figure out what clothes would make him look like a Muggle, even after spending the first eleven years of his life thinking he was a Muggle. God only knew what the others would've chosen- four purebloods and a half-blood, none of whom knew much at all about the Muggle World. And if they weren't downstairs in ten minutes, Harry seriously considered leaving without them.

It seemed like the other five had heard his thoughts, because they were all ready to go in a few minutes. Surprisingly, everyone seemed to have done a good job of getting dressed.

Harry looked at them all.

"'Bout time," he commented, sounding much more casual then he felt, "let's get going then?"

Draco shifted nervously as Ron knocked on the door for the third time. Should he be here? He knew that he'd been a right bastard to Granger before she'd left, and he knew he'd still held the beliefs he'd been raised on, then, so it wasn't really his fault. But how would she feel upon seeing her one-time worst enemy? He doubted she'd believe he'd changed; it had taken the others, and himself, long enough to realize that.

The blonde wondered what would happen once Hermione came back. Before she'd left, it had always been the Gryffindor Golden Trio. Nothing and no one could put so much as a crack in their unbreakable friendship. No one could come close as a substitute. Back when the Trio had still been high and mighty, Ginny had been the kid sister to be ignored, and he, himself, had been one more evil Slytherin. Once she was back with her famous friends, would things change? Would things shift back to the way they had once been? If Hermione felt uncomfortable around him, or still hated him, would that be enough to persuade the reformed Trio to stay away from him? To exclude Ginny because they wanted things to go back to the way they were? Draco couldn't get rid of the lingering feeling that both he and Ginny had been nothing more then substitutes to fill in the shoes of the Dream Team's missing member. He felt guilty for it, and he knew Ginny felt the same, but after years of watching the invincible and unknowingly exclusive group, the old insecurities would never go away. After four years of being jealous of the close friendship the three Gryffindors had had, and eight years of feeling that his own friendship couldn't possibly compare to that.

Despite himself, Draco could see the irony in the situation. _Him_, a Malfoy, someone who'd been raised to think they were superior to everyone else, actually thought he wasn't good enough for someone. And he had Harry and Ron- once Potty and the Weasel- to thank for that. The wizard mentally shook his head. Sometimes he wished he'd listened to his father and stayed on Voldemort's side, maybe if he had, he wouldn't care about losing friends, and he wouldn't have to worry about all of those damned feelings. If he had been a good little pureblood, he might not be bothered when people looked at him and thought that he was evil, too; that Draco would turn out just like his father. But the rational, analytical, occasionally cold, side of Draco- the inner Malfoy, born of years of training to be the best, never take anything at face value, and preparation to join the Dark Lord's ranks- knew that he'd never have wanted that. In the end, he still would have been disillusioned with the life his father led. Draco might have been a git as a child, but he'd never have signed up to torture and murder innocent people. That little voice in his head also told him that he was very glad that he was friends with Harry and Ron, as well as Ginny, Neville, Remus, and the others. It was the first time in his life he'd had anything remotely resembling a family.

So Draco squared his shoulders and waited, resolving to himself to show Granger- no, _Hermione_- that he'd changed. And maybe things would actually turn out as well as everyone else hoped. Maybe. Of course, just because he was going to show Hermione he'd changed didn't mean he had to be right at the front of the group. Nope, the back was just right. And, no, he was _not_ scared. Malfoy's aren't scared of anything.

Giles smiled at the sight that greeted his eyes. All of "his" children were sleeping peacefully, and for once, they didn't have a care in the world. Xander and Anya were cuddled together, as were Willow and Kennedy. Andrew was curled up, using a purple plush pillow of Dawn's as a teddy. And Buffy and Dawn were currently using Giles, himself, as a pillow. He looked around at the Scoobies with affection clearly written on his face. They had all changed so much over the years, the group he'd always claimed as his own had lost and gained so many members.

Jenny, the only Scooby who had held a romantic place in his heart. Angel, the vampire with a soul who he'd once hated so much, champion of the Powers as much as Buffy, and current CEO of Wolfram and Hart. Oz, the werewolf who had broken Willow's heart, a silent young man who had once been a balancing factor in the Scooby Gang. Cordelia, a blunt young woman who'd annoyed him, not too long ago. He had been proud to hear of the path she'd chosen, and had been saddened to hear of her death. Wesley, his feelings towards the ex-Watcher were much the same as his feelings towards Cordelia, minus the death part, of course. It made him proud to hear that the young man had managed to become the man his father had never wanted him to be, strange as that might sound.

And Riley, what could he say about Riley? The ex-commando had been a strong, upstanding, stalwart figure of society, and a very good man besides that. Giles had liked the boy, that was true, but the sad thing was, Riley had just been a phase. Buffy had wanted what he symbolized, not the man. She'd wanted normal, a life free of the pain and worry and stress of being a Slayer. And much as Riley had tried to be exactly the opposite, and fit in with the world of the Slayer, he never could. That had been his downfall; Buffy could never be herself with someone like that, simply because the supernatural was in her, not just in her life.

Tara, how he wished that she had never died. She had been a Scooby in her own right, not just by association, in those last days before her death. There was so much that had made her one-of-a-kind, and he'd never thought that Willow could be happy with anyone else. Which brought him to Kennedy. Frankly, he'd never thought that the Slayer's relationship with Willow would work out. It had been born of need, and a sense of impending doom, yet her year with Willow, combined with the responsibility Slayer-hood gave her, had matured Kennedy into someone Willow might have a good future with.

Then there was the last of them all, one man-pire whom he'd had some severe misconceptions about, only to be proven wrong in the worst possible way. Spike, being the contrary vampire that he had been, had to go and sacrifice himself to save the world. And manage to break Buffy's heart, on top of it. As if that wasn't enough, he had to do all of that right after Giles realized just how devoted he was to Buffy, and how he had missed the security of knowing his-pseudo daughter was happy and loved, by more then just her friends. The ex-librarian's musings were cut short as the noise that'd woken him up sounded again. With a start, Giles realized someone was knocking at the door at- two o'clock in the morning?

The Watcher gently disentangled himself from the two sleeping girls and went over to the weapon's chest Xander had made Buffy. He quietly pulled out a stake and walked over to the door. After years on the Hellmouth, he'd learned that you could never trust someone was human unless they were in direct sunlight, and it was better to be safe then dead. He held the stake behind his back and opened the door.

"Hello?" he asked the small group of people standing outside.

They all seemed to be around the Scooby's general age, and were dressed in either plaid golf pants or dirty, baggy, ripped jeans.

"Er, we're here to see Her-Buffy," the one nearest him, a tall redhead, said to him.

Giles looked at him curiously. Was that boy really wearing purple polyester pants or had those Hindu movies left some type of mental imprint on him?

"I'll go get her," he said, still trying to figure out if his mind hadn't conjured up something that hideous, because Giles was sure no decent store would sell pants so ugly.

The young man looked positively elated to hear that, raising Giles' suspicions even more. Pants from the fashion-challenged seventies, asking for the Slayer, and beaming when hearing that he'd see her. It didn't take a genius to figure out that there was something wrong with him. And, oh, Dear Lord, he was beginning to think like Buffy.

The Watcher turned back inside, closing the door behind him, and walked over to the couch. He grabbed a furry throw pillow off of the couch and whacked the sleeping Slayer over the head. She instinctively burrowed deeper under the blanket she shared with Dawn. Giles rolled his eyes and hit her over the head again. Finally, the blonde opened her eyes and looked at him, clearly annoyed.

"Why did you have to figure out how to wake me up?" she asked him in an aggrieved tone.

"Because you're too hard-headed to wake up on your own," he responded, "now grab a stake. There are some people asking for you and they don't look normal."

"Demon not-normalness or vampy not-normalness?" Buffy asked as she walked over to her weapons chest.

"Possibly of the vampire variety," Giles responded, careful not to wake the others.

"Ooh, yay! I haven't gotten to make anything go poof since we got here!" Buffy squealed excitedly.

Giles rolled his eyes at her. The two of them walked back over to the closed door and Buffy opened it. Giles hid behind the door, ready to help her out if the strangers turned out to be vampires.

"Hey, I'm Buffy and who are you?" Buffy asked, pushing the stake into her back pocket.

"'Mione?" the redhead asked her.

Buffy's eyes widened as she looked over the strangers.

"Eep." Was all the startled Slayer managed to get out.


	6. Chapter Six

**Title: Story of a Girl**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything. At all. If I did, I'd have more money then God and would never have canceled _BtVS_ and _Angel_.

**Summary: **A teenage girl is given an impossible destiny. She's taken away from everything she knows and everyone thinks she's dead. Eight years later, she's back, and in for one hell of a fight.

**Distribution: **Just ask if you want to use this.

**Spoilers: **All of _Buffy_ and _Angel_. Through GoF, and some minor ones from OotP.

**a/n: **Okay, I'd just like to thank everyone who reviewed this chapter, especially **Moonjava**, **Jenna Summers**, **Etoile Star**, **clcountry**, **Lorency**, **Alen Pitt**, and **Just Me**. Thanks for the reviews! There were a lot of questions asked, so this might take a while…

**Jenna Summers- **Draco is still a bit (okay, a lot) of an ass on the outside, don't worry. But if anyone asked him (though if I met either Tom Felton or Draco Malfoy, I wouldn't be thinking about this) he'd never admit what he was really feeling. And, you've got to remember, he's going to meet someone whom he's spent the past eight years thinking was dead, never mind the fact that she is one of his best friends' friends, that he spent years picking on. Anyone would let a few things slip under those circumstances.

**Alen Pitt**- First, I'd like to say that you must be one of the most perceptive people alive. No, I'm not going to tell you how (or if) the demon bunnies fit in (hint  hint) but I have to say, you've summed up exactly how I thought some of the characters would feel in this situation. Yay! You get a cookie:hands startled reviewer a gooey warm sugar cookie: I thought I'd mentioned why Dawn didn't get a letter from Hogwarts, but I guess I forgot to. See, I've always thought that the monks didn't create Dawn's memories, but simply cast a spell to fit her into the life a second Summers' daughter would've had- they didn't pick and choose how to fit her into everything, they just did a spell to automatically insert her into everyone's lives. And Dawn should've gotten a Hogwarts letter, after all, she is a living magical battery, and all that other Key-ness junk, but she didn't because by the time she was eleven, the Summers' (or most of them) had already moved to the Hellmouth, where there's so much magical energy that the arrival of two new witches wouldn't have been noticed, compared to all of the power already in Sunnydale.

**Ash**- No, Harry did not mention Hermione's "death" in a car accident, I checked. That'd be his parents, thought they're not mentioned either. Hermione and her family "died" in a plane crash on the way back from Spain, or at least, that's what the Watcher's Council told everyone.

**Just Me**- I _am_ planning a pairing, although that might come in the sequel (if I ever finish this fic and go on to do another one, that is) but I'm going to be all secretive and mysterious and not tell you who it is. Thanks for your review! It made me feel happy and hyper!

**Clcountry-** I don't care if this has nothing to do with my story, I'm going to ask anyway- _please please _update _Merging With the Traffic_! Pretty please? I'm addicted, and I need more!

Phew, I think that's it. I told you it was long. Now, onto the story…

* * *

Buffy couldn't believe her eyes. Literally, couldn't. In fact she was having so much trouble trying to convince herself that she wasn't in some demon induced dream world that she actually blinked, turned around, and pulled Giles into the doorway with her, looking to him for some type of silent confirmation that she wasn't hallucinating. Unfortunately, the mystified Watcher had no clue what the Slayer's unspoken dilemma was, and settled for looking confused, puzzled, and thoroughly bewildered.

Buffy looked at the redhead standing in front of her. Freckles? Check. Bright, red hair? Check. Tall and skinny body? Check. Knows her old name? Check. Oh shit, Ron. If possible, the blonde's eyes got even wider. Hoping for some proof that she was wrong, she quickly scanned the man standing next to her, and felt her heart plummet all the way down to her toes. This was _so_ not good.

Why? Because looking at that man, Buffy knew there was no way her original theory could be wrong. He had messy black hair, bright green eyes, and pale skin, as if he hadn't been in the sun for a little while. And since this was England, he probably hadn't been. Most important of all, a thin, red scar was visible through the man's thick bangs. Although Buffy couldn't see all of it, she knew exactly what it looked like. A lightning bolt. Her old friends had found her once she finally didn't want to be found.

To quote Giles, Dear Lord.

Seeing the woman's deer-in-the-headlights expression, Harry nervously cleared his throat.

"Er, Hermione? Why don't we take this inside?" he asked cautiously, as Buffy still hadn't done anything besides open her mouth, though no sound was coming out.

"It's Buffy," the Slayer managed to say, "Buffy Summers."

Harry looked at her sharply but said nothing as he made his way inside. At least Giles wasn't wondering if they were vampires, as all five of the witches and wizards walked into Buffy's loft without an invitation. Buffy closed the door behind them and walked over to the couch, looking more lost then she had been for a long time. Almost as if needing solid reassurance that this wasn't some horrific nightmare, she reached out and grabbed her sleeping sister's hand, successfully waking the Key.

"Buffy?" Dawn asked sleepily, her eyes fluttering open.

The older girl only nodded mutely, her eyes still fixed on the group that had settled into the chairs near the couch. Unbeknownst to the Slayer, Giles was systematically waking the Scooby Gang up, knowing that they would want to hear whatever these people had come to say. Harry cleared his throat again. It was almost as if he had the words in his head, but couldn't force them out.

"Hermione, er, I mean, Buffy, we need to know what happened," Harry said simply, not trusting himself to ask what he really wanted to know without yelling.

"Why don't we start with you telling us who the hell you are?" Xander, now awake, broke in.

Harry and the rest of his group looked a little surprised to realize that there were, in fact, other people in the room, as they had all been focused on Buffy. Buffy, herself, still looked like she was in shock, dozens of different emotions running across her face.

"I've got to agree with the Yank, Harry," Ron said.

Harry nodded, a little disconcerted. He hadn't pictured Hermione acting like this. Crying, maybe. But she was just staring at them, and it wasn't a remotely happy stare, either. In fact, she looked like she was seriously considering throwing herself out of one of the large windows in the room. And why had she told him to call her Buffy? None of this made sense.

Meanwhile, Buffy was facing some serious inner turmoil. This wasn't supposed to happen! Not now, not when she'd finally put the past firmly where it belonged- in the past. She had had to _die_ to realize that she was long past her Hogwarts days, and while it had been wrong to take her from her friends, she had finally figured out that time and distance change a person. It had hurt enough to grasp that simple concept, why the hell did Harry and Ron have to show up now, and tear open an old wound? Why now? Things were finally going well!

And what would the others say? With a pang, Buffy realized that she had been too wrapped up in forgetting everything to tell her friends about that very same past. And, oh God, Dawn. In all of the many years, she had never once told her younger sister about Hogwarts, about the real reason they had moved. They were _not_ going to be happy. How could this be happening? How? How? How? And _why_?

Someone up there must really hate her. That was the only explanation. In the year after they'd left England, Buffy had been lost without the life she'd led for years. Scared, lonely, and more then a little pissed off. And she had missed Harry and Ron more then anything. After that first year, she'd been determined to start over. If thinking about her friends hurt, then Buffy wouldn't think about them, that was the only logical conclusion. Then she'd met Xander and Willow, two of the only people who she could actually enjoy herself with; two people who didn't make her think about being a Slayer, and all of the events that had led to her being called.

Right before the final confrontation with Glory, Buffy had wondered if she was growing cold, and she had secretly been wondering that ever since she realized just how callous her approach to Hogwarts memories was. How "easily" she had put her two best friends behind her, with only a year of mourning. Of course, losing Harry and Ron had been part of the Scooby Gang's foundation, the same way Jesse's death had been. People who had already lost someone once would always cling to those they'd found after, and even more to the people they had always had around. With Buffy, people from before wasn't an option, and Willow and Xander had become closer then ever. And, now, now that she'd finally gotten her family back together, with absolutely no problems whatsoever, this had to happen. And every lie she'd told in the past eight years was about to get thrown out into the open.

"Buffy?" Willow's soft voice broke into her thoughts.

Evidently, the introductions were over, and if the expectant looks being thrown her way were any indicator, they wanted to know either what the hell was going on, or what the hell had happened in the past eight years. Could she really tell them? Would she be able to live with herself if they knew? Would anyone ever trust her again? But it wasn't her choice, was it? The Scoobies deserved to know. They had been through too much with her, had lost too many people because of her, to not know the whole truth.

Buffy closed her eyes and took a deep breath. This would so _not_ be easy.

"Right, now, none of you are allowed to interrupt cuz I know all of you are going to wig by the time I'm done," the Slayer warned.

Everyone nodded silently, but Buffy could feel the eyes of her "family" on her. They had questions, and Buffy knew no one would like the answers.

"Okay, well, I guess I've gotta start from the beginning. See, there's this whole other world, and it's all magic. It's filled with witches and wizards, only they have wands and broomsticks, and they go to schools to learn how to use them. I used to be one of those guys, back when my name was still Hermione Granger, and I was pretty good at it, too. But in the Wizarding World there are people who've had magic in their families for, like, ever. Then, there are people like me and Wills. We woke up one day and _bam_ it's like magic! Only I guess you didn't get to go to a school cuz you lived in Sunnydale, but anyway. Some of the dudes with all of the magic in their blood- they're purebloods, stupid name, I know- think they're better then people who just found out they're witches. Serious Drusilla-thinking, huh? Then there's King Voldy, who is, like, the pureblood hobbit-minions' Glory- only without the blood thing, or Dawnie, or the whole death and brain-suckage.

"So, Voldy decides to get rid of all of the Muggle-borns- that's people like me and Will- and while he's at it, he can take over the Magical World. So he's off with his own army of frightened little wizards in Halloween costumes, making people fear his name, and all of that other "Big Bad" tough talk, when he tries to kill Harry, over there. The curse rebounds, and old Voldy gets his ass kicked by a one year old midget.

"Lots of time passes, eleven years, if you want to get into the technical stuff. Harry, Ron, and I get our Hogwarts- our magic school, even stupider name the 'pureblood'- letters. Off we go, little mini-witches and wizards, ready to learn our little spells… and we do. Harry almost dies in First Year, Harry almost dies in Second Year, Harry almost dies in Third Year, Harry _really_ almost dies in Fourth Year, and Voldy comes back. Then comes the summer after Fourth Year, I was fine. We went to Spain, had a great time, and got a great tan, you know, the usual vacation-y goodness.

"We'd been home for a week, still all jet-lagged, and everything, when this old guy who wore too much tweed shows up at the door- and no, it was_ not_ Giles," Buffy said as Xander opened his mouth. Her guess seemed to be right, since his jaw snapped shut after she answered his unspoken question.

"He tells me, Mom, and Dad that I'm a Potential Slayer- no clue what that was- and we're in 'grave danger'," the Slayer made air quotes around the last two words, "and now we had to move- to LA. Not really smart, if you ask me. I mean, we move, like, 80 miles away from the _Hell_mouth and the stupid Council expected us to be fine and dandy? Puh-_lease_. Then Dad went on his whole "My-Life-Sucks-So-Much, Everyone-Should-Pity-Me" tour of love and the lives of us fascinating Summers gals went straight to hell- literally.

"So we start the Sunnydale Chapter of our favorite daytime soap, starring Buffy Summers, her best friends Willow and Xander, Giles, her new Watcher, and several other audience favorites. We blow stuff up, I get to use a rocket launcher, and I prove just how much un-luck I have with men. Things suck so much in Sunnydale that I was too busy to stop and think about calling you- even if there wasn't the whole Council-almost-intimidating thing going on until I fired them. Then, when I came back… well, things were a lot clearer. Like, before, I was Angst-y Buffy, pretty, perky, and much with the world-savage, but channeling some serious Angel inside. Though, with much better clothes. Then I was Martyr Buffy, who had to do it all alone. In the last year of our days in Sunnyhell, Big Bad, but Not Evil Buffy came out to play.

"We wept to leave the Hellmouth we had enjoyed so many not life-threatening situations in. Not. This year, I've figured stuff out. Like I was finally over my life being royally screwed by those stuffy old people. Most of the people who count are already with me. So pretty much, I did some philosophical thinking and found out that for a guy who's supposed to have centuries worth of experience, the Immortal was only okay in bed. Things are finally alright, for once. Until… this whole story comes pouring out like a knockoff of Niagara Falls. Now, on our latest episode of Buffy, the Vampire Slayer, our favorite tastefully, yet sexily dressed Slayer sits in her living room surrounded by her bestest friends in the whole world humbly begging for your forgiveness."

Buffy knew it was a long shot, but she had to start letting the Scoobies know just how huge the I'm Sorry vibes really were. As it was, every single ex-Sunnydaler in the room had _extremely_ hurt expressions, and Buffy couldn't blame them. She had lied to them for eight years. Put them in danger for eight years, without ever letting them know the truth. Some of them had almost died to help her, yet they didn't know the truth of _who_ they would die for. Her friends- hell, her _family_- had been cut off from one of the most important stages of her life, all because she was too busy wallowing in her own self pity. The Slayer couldn't even _begin_ to say who looked more betrayed. Dawn, Giles, Xander, and Willow were all tied in the top four spots, each of them looking as if they had been stabbed in the heart.

Giles, the man who she thought of as a father, who'd lost his job for her, even lost Jenny for her- or, at least, _because_ of her- was finally realizing why she'd never really liked the magical approach to things, and hated to research. Willow could've gotten help from Dumbledore if Buffy hadn't been too self-absorbed to see how bad the witch's addiction had gotten. Xander, her very first friend in Sunnydale, one of the few constants in her life, had never been told the truth. And Dawn, last, but not least. Her little sister had been lied to for almost her whole life. Buffy was supposed to be there for her, the one person who could always be counted on, and instead, she was the one person who could be counted on to never tell the truth.

Buffy closed her eyes. Things were so not alright, and she had the feeling that they weren't going to be until a whole lot of dirty laundry was aired out.

While these thoughts were running through Buffy's head, and countless others were going through heads of the other, very hurt, members of the Scooby Gang, Harry had one thing on his mind. Rage. He wasn't pissed off. Nope, the Boy Who Lived always had to be the overachiever. He couldn't escape Voldemort once to get his shiny title, he had to escape The Lord of Nothing In Particular about twenty times. And when he got mad, simple old anger wouldn't do at all. He was downright furious, something that he wasn't afraid to show. Hermione had just told him that the crazily dressed Muggles on the couch had meant more to her then him, Ron, Ginny, Dumbledore, and scores of others. At the very least, she could have told them the truth.

Harry ignored the nagging little voice in his head that told him that Hermione had never chosen any of this. She had never chosen to become a Slayer, she had never chosen to be threatened, and she certainly had never chosen to move to California. _But she had_, Harry told himself, _she chose to go away, and she chose not to talk to us._ Before he really processed what he was doing, Harry was already on his feet, eyes blazing.

"So you're begging for _their_ forgiveness but not ours? Because we're not worth it? I saved your life plenty of times and the only apology I got was 'Harry almost died'! And you barely put Ron in at all! We were there for you for _four_ years, and suddenly, we're not worth a mention!" he began his loud rant.

It promised to go on for a little while, but Buffy cut him off, looking every bit as incensed as Harry.

"What the hell are you talking about? Or maybe you didn't notice that _no one_ got talked about that much. If anything, Will, Giles, Dawnie, Xander, Anya, Kennedy, and god, even Andrew has a lot more right to be pissed off. I mean, they were only with me for _eight years_," the Slayer's tine was scathingly cold, as opposed to Harry's heated yelling. "And I've saved the world- with the _Scoobies_' help- way more times then you _ever _saved me! I mean, if you're petty enough to count it that way. And here I thought the noble and great Boy Who Lived was to _perfect_ for that. Proved me wrong, huh?" Buffy knew she shouldn't be meeting Harry's anger this way, but she couldn't help herself.

So what if it wasn't Harry's fault that she'd shown some serious Valley Girl stupidity? He was the first one to make any argument, and they were pointless enough.

"Versus you? We saw you, you know? Like how you stabbed someone through the heart right after saying you loved him. What does that make you? A murderer? If that doesn't whatever you and that brunette did will. So you're a killer and I'm the bad one? How bloody egotistical can you get? I'd tell you to look at yourself, first, but it appears that that's the only person you care about. You didn't love anyone enough to tell us the truth, and those Muggles you just said meant _so_ much to you? Well, you've been lying to them ever since you first met them. Does that mean they're friends with someone who doesn't exist? Well, Hermione, that means you have no friends. How does that feel?" the uncharacteristically cruel words tumbled out of Harry's mouth before he could stop them.

Like his sparring mate, Harry was letting out all of his frustrations with Hermione and anything remotely connected to her. How lost he and Ron had felt without the Trio's third part, wondering now and then what could've been different if she was there with the Order. How many people could the three of them have saved? Especially with all of the knowledge Hermione had amassed by the end of her Fourth Year, alone. It had been hard after her alleged death, whenever he saw something important, or interesting, or just plain funny, he'd think "I've got to go tell Ron and Hermione", then he'd remember that Hermione wouldn't be around to tell anything to, and Ron would be too depressed to laugh at anything. All of the years they could have spent together, an evil-fighting Trio, were gone because of too many cruel twists of Fate to count.

Right now, they could have created so many good memories, as opposed to the bad ones that populated his mind. Voldemort had staged an attack right after Hermione's fake death, thinking the Boy Who Lived would be vulnerable after losing one of his friends. He'd lured Harry to the Department of Mysteries, and had almost gotten his hands on a very important prophecy. As it was, the Order had lost twelve members- twelve human lives- in the fight that occurred, the Dark Lord figuring it would be the perfect time to make a show of strength and bring Harry down even further. He had been right again, and Harry had felt guilty for years, nightmares about the murdered people plaguing him, haunting him, and blaming him. But no matter how enraged he was, Harry would have never said half of the things he had if he'd known just how close to the truth they were.

Buffy's eyes flashed, quickly covering up the hurt that had flickered there for a second.

"Son of a bitch," she ground out.

However, she wasn't the only one who was infuriated at Harry's words. Willow's hair had started to lighten, but in contrast, her eyes were flashing dark. Xander looked like he was about to knock Harry out, and Giles had a Ripper-ish grin on his face that could only be described as dangerous. Anya, who knew exactly what Harry was talking about visibly bristled and began to wonder if being a liaison to the Powers meant she couldn't fry just one person. However, Dawn looked positively frightening. If you looked into her blue eyes you would swear that something was swirling in them. Energy. Pure, green energy.

"Get out," the Key spat.

"I really don't think you're old enough to be telling anyone to do anything," Ron shot at her.

Yep, everyone was over the tongue numbing shock factor.

"First of all, she's has done a hell of a lot more then you ever will, second, I am more then old enough to tell you what to do, and I'm telling you to get the bloody hell out of this apartment." Giles said angrily.

"Or you could stay and we can shove those nice pointy sticks up your collective asses," Kennedy suggested, eyeing the wands that the wizards had pulled out.

"I'd like to see you try," Ginny taunted.

There was no denying that the five foot eight inch redhead towered over the other women in the room. Those who knew what Kennedy was tried to hide grins. However, Willow's hair was fully white after that comment, and her eyes had turned dark green, right between their natural green and the Darth Willow black.

"I really don't think you want her to," she intoned, her voice about two octaves deeper then normal, "because I get very mad when people make my girl work. And you don't want me to get angry, do you?"

The Order members were looking at her, more then a little afraid, although to their credit, they tried to hide it. They should have been more afraid of the small blonde Slayer then the powerful Wicca they were currently faced with. As Willow began to whip up a strong banishing spell with a few strings attached to it, and the wizards and witches- minus Buffy- began to try firing spells at her, something strange seemed to be happening to the Slayer. Not bad, just _different_, yet it was familiar, too.

Buffy could feel her internal magic responding to the multitude of spells around her. She'd been around magic before, but not like this. Willow's spell seemed to have upped her own powers as a Slayer. She knew she was stronger then the newly called Slayers and her senses had become even stronger over the past year. Now it seemed like that increased perception included magic, of which she hadn't been around since the spell, and that was the strange thing. She could feel all of the magic in her blood building, responding to the magic floating around in the air, leftover emissions from all of the useless spells cast by the Hogwarts crew. It was stronger then anything she ever remembered, and she could feel it just beneath her skin, and it felt good. Power. Pure, raw, unadulterated power, the kind that came with being a Slayer. It was exhilarating, making an adrenaline rush seem like a knockoff of the kind of feeling she was experiencing now. It was invigorating, as if she had been a half dead normal girl before and someone had healed her and turned her into the Slayer. It was revitalizing. And Buffy could feel it burning to get out. She wanted to feel the release, and wondered how it could possibly compare to her emotions at the moment. She felt _alive_, in a way she had never felt before, yet it also felt right. Normal. She felt complete. That was the best way to describe it.

The Slayer had always said that no one could know what it felt like to be the Slayer, at least, until she met Faith. She was beginning to rethink that statement. If this was anything near what Willow felt when she did own unique form of magic, someone who wasn't a Slayer knew the kind of rush that came in a battle. You never felt more alive then when you were fighting for your life.

Unbeknownst to her, Buffy's eyes were bright gold, the same cat eyes that she'd had when Giles, Xander, and Willow had combined their essences with her, and her hair had turned the exact same color, wild. Willow was channeling the powers of light magic; Buffy was pulling from the power inside of her. The power of the Slayer, a mixture of one of the first demon's power and that of the wizards who extracted it. Back when there was no good and evil, everything was still connected, everything was raw and pure. Primal. There was only survival and eliminating those who threatened it. The idea of good and evil came after humans corrupted the power and those who wielded it. Willow was using the power that they all served, Buffy_ was_ the power of something much older.

"_Go_." She ordered. "Come back tomorrow. We need to talk. And check the big-time pride and temper fits at the door- they won't help you here."

The Order's group of would-be rescuers nodded fearfully and practically ran out of the door. The Scoobies- including the still white haired Willow- turned to look at her uneasily. It was clear that all of them were more then a little wary of her. Then Xander broke the silence with what could only be called one of the stupidest questions in history.

"So, are ya evil?" he asked.

Buffy looked at him. She was used to his comments by now, and had laughed over too many to count, but the Slayer had no idea where that had come from.

"Huh?" she responded eloquently.

"Um, Buffy, maybe you should look in the mirror," Willow suggested hesitantly.

"Maybe you should, too." Kennedy whispered in her girlfriend's ear.

"Why? What's wrong? Did something happen to my hair?" Buffy asked, panicking.

She didn't notice as the dark pupils of the cat eyes began to grow smaller, and the leftover color dispersed over her irises, mixing with the bright gold to create a light brown color with little leftover yellow flecks. The blonde ran into the nearest bathroom hurriedly, peering into the mirror. To her, nothing seemed that different, except there weren't any brown roots showing.

"What? I don't get it." Buffy said confusedly, checking her body over for anything unusual.

Horns? No. Tail? No. Skin? Same as it had been an hour ago. Face? Good. Lipstick on teeth? No. What the hell was causing the wigginess?

She walked back into the living room, perplexed.

"Buffy, your eyes," Giles began.

"What about them?" she asked

"They were gold- cat eyes." The Watcher told her, with an eye roll at her interruption.

"Uh… I'd come up with something witty to say, but there's pretty much no puns for that. Are you sure?" Buffy asked, seeking reassurance.

Everyone in the room nodded.

"You looked kind of scary for a second," Xander admitted.

"Why?" Buffy said, asking the obvious question.

Giles took his glasses off and cleaned them.

"That is the million dollar question, isn't it? I think it has something to do with your-," he hesitated for a second and cleared his throat, before starting again, "magical abilities. Being this close to so much magic might have called out your own."

"But wouldn't it have happened before? Like when Willow was all small, dark, and veiny?" Dawn asked.

Buffy was the one clearing her throat, now.

"If my Slayer powers were on magical steroids, or something, would that bring it out?" she asked hesitantly.

Giles looked at her sharply.

"What do you mean?" he asked quickly.

"Well, ever since Wills worked her mojo and called all the Potentials, I've been feeling kind of juiced up," she admitted.

"Why didn't you tell me?" the question was normal enough, but the words held a hurt and extremely disappointed tone that Buffy had never heard Giles use.

She shrugged half-heartedly.

"I was busy, and so were you," she responded, "I figured it wasn't bad, so I'd be okay."

Giles looked at her.

"Look how well things turned out the last time you thought something like that," he reminded her frankly.

Buffy cringed. She looked at her friends, none of whom were looking too happy. If anything, they looked confused. It didn't seem like they could fully grasp the concept that one of their own had lied to them for so long. It had been easy when Harry had begun his verbal assault, the natural instinct to defend a friend was an easy escape from all of the new information. Now they were back to the nice, welcoming hostility. What Slayer wouldn't love it? How about all of them.

"I'm sorry about that, I really am. And I know that's a pretty lame thing to say after lying for so long, but it's true," Buffy said earnestly, "I didn't mean for it to turn out this way. Back when I first left, the Council threatened to take me away like they did to Kendra if I told anyone. Then after we got rid of them I was finally dealing. There just didn't seem to be a good time- we were either fighting Frankenstein Jr. or crazy hellbitch and that would've been a _really_ bad time to start pulling off the Clark Kent thing and telling everyone you're Superman. When I came back and I was trying to live again, there wasn't room for anyone else. Lying to all of you was just a bad, bad thing to do. I'm Bad, not Evil Buffy who you can lock in a room with Faith and Robin."

It was an inside joke, Faith and Robin hadn't been able to keep their hands off of each other, and watching them was like one of Anya's speeches given illustrations.

Giles smiled slightly at that while the others made various gagging, retching, and generally disgusted noises.

"I doubt you've done anything that bad. Actually, I don't even think the Devil himself deserves that," he remarked.

"So are we good?" Buffy asked anxiously.

"Maybe," Xander said, "but you have to do one thing first."

"What?" Buffy asked expectantly.

"Pull the Superman outfit off, too." He laughed.

Buffy punched him in the back of the head. Things would take a while to get patched up, and Buffy knew that things might get a little bumpy, but all in all, all was good in the yummy world of Slayerness… For now.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Title: Story of a Girl**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything. At all. If I did, I'd have more money then God and would never have canceled _BtVS_ and _Angel_.

**Summary: **A teenage girl is given an impossible destiny. She's taken away from everything she knows and everyone thinks she's dead. Eight years later, she's back, and in for one hell of a fight.

**Distribution: **Just ask if you want to use this.

**Spoilers: **All of _Buffy_ and _Angel_. Through GoF, and some minor ones from OotP.

**a/n: **I just started writing this right after I posted Chapter Six, so sorry, but no review replies here, but I will be replying to them in the next chapter for both this chapter and Chapter Eight. For anyone who might have thought Harry was a little out of character I'd like to mention my reasoning for writing him the way I did. First, there were difficult circumstances. Big duh. Then, you've got one of his former best friends pretty much ignoring him, even though he and Ron have been missing Buffy for years. Harry expects things to pick up the way they were before Buffy left, but they can't. He's pretty much acting like Buffy really did die and come back to life, and she hasn't changed at all. Which she has. Then there's some serious frustration with life in general. Remember, he's been helping fight against Voldemort for the past eight years. They aren't winning, people are dying, and he feels pretty damned helpless with an added touch of superiority (think Holden Webbs' analysis from Season Seven) because he's the only one who can save the Wizarding World. I hope that will cover everything for now.

* * *

Ron stared at the flames in shock, not really seeing them at all. How could things have turned out that badly? What had happened?

Everything had turned out wrong. Nothing was right in the world. The redhead truly wouldn't be surprised if Snape started wearing pink and handing out valentines. Harry and Hermione. Fighting. Screaming words that had probably hurt more then either would ever show. Why? What could have done this to the once unbreakable trio of friends? Oh, but of course, Hermione had a brand new bunch of friends, and they were damned scary.

But why would Hermione turn on someone like that? Turn on them? She had looked like she was about to kill Harry, almost as scary as his fellow redhead, and that was something. When did things become so wrong? Ron wished he could take a time turner back to their First Year, and make sure nothing bad happened. He wanted to change everything, make Hermione herself again, and get rid of Voldemort. But he couldn't. He never could. Even if it was possible for him to be more then a sidekick, Hermione was her own woman now. Unfortunately, that was a woman who wanted nothing to do with them anymore. How had Hermione changed so much? It didn't seem possible for anyone to have such a different outlook on life. But she did. In the space of a few years, Hermione had moved on from them and into a new family, like they were clothes she had grown out of, or toys she didn't want to play with. Damn it! This wasn't fair!  
There didn't seem to be any hope left. It was just…gone. He felt empty inside. Like there was no reason to keep going on anymore. And maybe there wasn't. If the two people he had once trusted more then anyone else to be there were currently about three seconds away from killing each other- or at least casting some nasty and embarrassing jinxes- who could he trust?

Dumbledore had proven that he would look out for the greater good over any one individual. His family? But there were too many Weasleys, and if he was in trouble, chances were someone else needed to be saved, too. Draco? Sure, but he knew the other man felt out of place with them sometimes. In the past few years, the moments had been too few to count on two hands, but they were still there. One day it might get to be too much for the blonde, and he might decide to leave.

Leave like Hermione had. Which brought Ron back to the source of all of the turmoil. He wasn't even sure that it was Hermione they had spoken to, if you could call it that, earlier that night- or morning, depending upon how you looked at it. Now it was definitely morning, five o'clock, to be exact, and Ron found himself wondering what Hermione and her friends were thinking right now. Were they angry with her? Were they hurt? What had they planned to do today, before they found out about all of Hermione's lies?

Now that he thought about it, Ron had a lot of questions about Hermione and her new friends. What were they like? What was their favorite thing to do together? How had the Hellmouth been? Did they really save the world? What had those flashes from Snape's potion been about? Naturally, he understood most of them, particularly the early ones, but some of them were sort of confusing.

There was so much he wanted to know, so many questions he wanted to ask. He wished things hadn't gone so badly, because he wanted to trade memories with Hermione, things might be a little different, Ron knew that, but maybe if they all tried to get into each other's lives more, things could go back to normal. And they could really use any extra help offered when it came to Voldemort.

Once upon a time, the worst things in Ronald Weasley's life had been the Potions exam that he hadn't studied for. That was the way life was supposed to be. The only things he had cared about were his family, friends, Quidditch, and the occasional annual adventure. And he had still considered them to be adventures back them. Because he'd had his one staunch belief, like a small child's security blanket, that had given him faith in the face of everything from his sister's almost-death to dementors. His friends would help him through it all. They would always be there for him. How he wished he could go back to that innocence.

"Ron? Come on, the meeting is starting," Harry said wearily.

Ron nodded and stood up, following his best friend downstairs.

    

"This meeting of the Order of the Phoenix is called to order on August the Twenty Ninth, 2004," Dumbledore said regally from his place at the head of the long table.

As soon as the scared, defeated, and altogether unhappy group had returned from Buffy's loft, Dumbledore had called together a meeting as fast as he could, the result being a number of extremely worried witches and wizards. The second the venerable old Headmaster had finished speaking, voices broke out. They sounded so loud that the aged wizard had to shoot off several loud firecrackers from the end of his wand to get the occupants of the chaotic room's attention.

"Harry, will you please report on your findings at Miss Granger's?" he asked, causing an immediate hush in the room.

Most of the people assembled weren't sure if the fact that this meeting hadn't been called because of something Voldemort had done was good or bad. They settled for looking perplexed.

The silver haired man- and he was a man, no matter how many people idolized him as a god of some sort- watched the Boy Who Lived closely. Something wasn't right, that was plain to tell. Emotions were warring across Harry's face to win supremacy, and none of them were good. Right now, a mixture of self-loathing and sadness seemed to be the victors of his internal fight. Obviously, things hadn't gone well at all. Dumbledore's suspicions were confirmed as he heard Harry's detailed account of what had gone on at the Slayer's home. Alarms went off in his head as the young man recounted what the two young witches had done, and more importantly, what had happened to them. No, things hadn't gone well at all.

People all around the room were looking scared as they heard about the two powerful witches. The Headmaster saw Molly and Arthur Weasley looking at their three- and yes, Harry was as good as blood for quite a few of the older generation- youngest children with expressions of concern written all over their faces. He was willing to bet that all six people involved in the supposed "rescue" mission were going to be firmly in Molly's motherly clutches for the next few days, starting with the end of the meeting. They were clearly worried about their children, and with good reason, not to mention what had happened to Hermione. Which was why Dumbledore regretted having to say what he did as soon as Harry finished his monologue.

"Well, I guess you will have to go back later today, won't you?" he asked, the twinkle absent from his bright blue eyes.

The six who would be going nodded resolutely. Although no one had appreciated last night's initial meeting, it seemed they wanted to try to fix things. A look of grim determination was quickly spreading over Harry's features, and the former Professor knew that he was determined to do whatever it took to get back in Hermione's good graces.

The wizened old wizard heaved an almost imperceptible sigh. He remembered the days when Harry, Ron, and Hermione could have been counted on to get into some scrape or the other, research and get involved in things he wished they wouldn't. Those had been days of relative peace, compared to the ever-present terror of today. Once upon a time the students and children he had watched grow up to become so many different things had been safe. He didn't have to make decisions that might ultimately end up with several deaths, and those same deaths weren't normal. But that was a long time ago, and in the present there was still a fight to win. One that would either guarantee a lasting peace for the Wizarding World, or condemn it to the darkness of Voldemort's reign forever.

"Perhaps you should meet them for lunch," Dumbledore suggested, "that way you will have enough time to speak with each other, and you have quite a few hours to rest. After all, there's no place to bond with a person better then the table."

It was one of his normal, slightly eccentric, quotes. Most people were fooled into thinking he wasn't overly concerned. Everyone except the people who mattered the most. Harry and the others had been with him too long not to notice the grave expression in the eyes that could tell so much, and yet, so little.

"We'll leave at twelve," Draco said, speaking up.

It was unusual for the young Malfoy to stay quiet at any time, let alone an Order meeting, but Dumbledore attributed it to shock and the fatigue catching up to him. None of the six people who had gone to visit the wayward witch had gotten any sleep for the past two days, now, with meetings keeping them up late- or early- all night both last night and tonight- or day.

He wished this horror story would just end, and turn into something with a happy ending. But that wouldn't happen unless they all worked for it, and they'd have to work harder then Voldemort and his army of Death Eaters.

"I think that's everything of importance," the old man said tiredly.

With uncertain eyes, he watched the six people whose decisions today could change the world leave the house. He hoped to God that they managed to get through to Hermione and her friends in time. Who knew what that kind of power could do in the wrong hands, and if Voldemort managed to corrupt them there would be no hope left. The Order's forces were scraped thin as it was, and the Ministry was literally helpless to do anything to help-or hinder- in the fight. Most of the tasks they took care of were menial compared to getting rid of Death Eaters, and they had almost no Aurors who weren't either dead or working for the Order. The- oh what did Harry say they had called themselves? Oh yes, the Soupy gang would have to join the Order's side as soon as possible in order for there to be a chance of victory. What a strange name, the Soupy gang, but Muggles were a strange type of people. Fascinating, but strange.

    

Ginny was wondering what they would say to Hermione when they saw her in a few hours. She was so clueless that the witch lie awake in bed perusing the thought.

Their last encounter with the one time brunette had been a spectacular disaster. And a very large surprise, too. Growing up, Ginny had always felt a little excluded from the famous Trio, who had always done everything together, and she was still young when it broke apart. She hadn't been old enough to process any of the small flaws in the formerly inseparable friendship, and because of that, had always had them on an unconscious pedestal in her mind. So it had come as quite a shock to see two thirds of said Golden Group ready to continue for hours in either a spoken attack or a physical one, and she probably would have witnessed exactly that, had the Muggles and the powerful witch not have stopped the two old friends.

_Friends_, Ginny mulled the word over in her mind. It could mean so many things. A new acquaintance that had the possibility of becoming a good friend. Someone who was always there for you, no matter what. A buddy to go shopping with. A person you traded owls with once a month, or on holidays and birthdays. An individual who you felt something romantic towards, but didn't want to admit it. The term could be used so loosely, yet could be one of the strongest things in the world. And Ginny had never thought that she would see the day a rock-solid friendship deteriorated to nothing more than a loud argument, all because there were people in the world who had had to ruin the lives of one young girl and everyone who cared about her.

Yet, in a way, everyone should be grateful to those self-serving bastards, whoever they might be. Because those little twists of fate, however cruel, and how you react to them are what truly shape a person. And while Hermione had made her share of mistakes- and hadn't they all? - things would work out in the end. They _had _to, and if Ginny couldn't cling to one of the last beliefs she had left, she didn't what would happen to her.

Once upon a time Ginny had wished for nothing more then a few cute dates, cuter clothes, and the possibility of having a _real_ friendship, the kind her older brother shared with Harry and Hermione. She'd wished to be considered an adult and not some annoying tag along. The future had been filled with thousands of possibilities, different paths to be chosen, each one more adventurous and exciting then the next, and Ginny had wanted to try them all. She had wanted to find her own identity, away from the Weasley name, and away from the long shadows cast by her older brothers. Most of all, Ginny had wanted to prove herself. She'd always had the feeling that people didn't expect her to amount to much. After all, with all of the talented Weasleys out there, there had to be one bad one, one dud, and since all of the good ones were boys, then the dud had to be the one and only girl. She had mostly gotten rid of that feeling, and now she's give almost anything to go back to simple times when a feeling of inadequacy was her worst problem.

Too bad no one ever could.


	8. Chapter Eight

**Title: Story of a Girl**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything. At all. If I did, I'd have more money then God and would never have canceled _BtVS_ and _Angel_.

**Summary: **A teenage girl is given an impossible destiny. She's taken away from everything she knows and everyone thinks she's dead. Eight years later, she's back, and in for one hell of a fight.

**Distribution: **Just ask if you want to use this.

**Spoilers: **All of _Buffy_ and _Angel_. Through GoF, and some minor ones from OotP.

**a/n: **'Kay peoples! I've got reviews to answer! I'm so happy. I should make up a review dance! Once again, I want to thank all of the nice people who reviewed! Yay you! Now… onto the specifics.

**Just Me**- Thanks, thanks, and thanks, first of all. Now, onto the question about the tension between the Scoobies and the Hogwarts Crew, it'll ease up little by little. They can't become instant buds or anything because everyone involved is more then a little suspicious of things, and with good reason, given everything they've been through. And no one is really trusting, either. Besides, they have a lot of issues to work out, first.

**Lightdemondarkangel-** They'll be on the way to becoming friends again, that's true. On the surface they will be. It'll take a lot more then a quick meeting or two for them to get to the Scooby level. A _lot_ more. No, Buffy's not going to become a braniac. I think Hermione had a quick wit and could remember little details of information to put in some form of essay or project. She studied to get those details of information, and because those details interested her. She studied so hard because she wanted to be the best. Buffy has a quick wit and can use little details of information to form some crazy plan that seems suicidal but always works. Buffy chose saving people over studying, and the Gryffindor in her wanted more action then just the books. That's why I think she wasn't put in Ravenclaw and was drawn into Harry's adventures. She used the same drive that made her such a good student to become such a good Slayer, and she is a really good strategist, something she would've picked up in both books and Slaying. That's my explanation, anyway.

**Jenna Summers-** Thanks! And I'm planning for Ginny to find a real friend, but it won't be right away, and I hope it's unexpected.

**clcountry-** I really love your story and I hope you work out Chapter Six. Thank you! And the hostility between Buffy and the Order is partly because they're all having some major hurt issues and partly because it finally seemed like Buffy's life was finally coming together, not exactly normal, but better then it had been. I love Cordelia, and she was the character that first got me interested in the show- the first episode of Buffy I ever watched was 'Homecoming', and you never know who's going to pop in to shake things up again once things calm down. (hinthint).

**Charmed-angel4-** thanks! I'm glad you liked Chapter Five.

Wow! That was even longer then last time. Oh well, time for the craziness of this poor, tortured little story.

* * *

Buffy looked out her bedroom window, wondering how things had gone from as perfect as a love-less life could be, to hell- this time, _not_ the literal version of it, just damned close. Speaking of hell, she had to get dressed and go face it- Dawnie was trying to cook, a disaster that could only be rivaled by her own cooking skills. Or lack of, because there were no chefs to be had in Casa de Summers. Buffy hadn't even been able to bake Play Dough as a child.

"Come on, Buffy! They're almost done!" Dawn called from the kitchen.

Buffy winced and walked over to her closet, wishing she had taken longer in the shower. Dawn's meal was sure to be… interesting, at least.

_That's right, stay on the positive, _Buffy told herself.

It would be colorful, too. Very colorful. And filling. Buffy probably wouldn't be able to eat anything for the rest of the day. At least she would never get fat. Carb counting, schmarb counting, right? The Slayer brightened as she came up with a plan. Maybe shopping would make Dawn finish her breakfast soon. Okay, it was more like lunch, but with the serious Traum-o-rama all last night, eleven thirty something was a very reasonable time to wake up.

And neither Summers sister had gone shopping in London since they had arrived, almost two months before! It was practically a sign of the apocalypse. Buffy half expected some crazy little guy with green horns and pointy shoes to start singing and dancing to the beat of his very own prophecy of death and destruction. After all, demons she could handle, old clothes, Buffy could so not.

The blonde walked over to her admittedly large closet and started browsing around. She found a low-cut, white, baby-doll t-shirt and a pair of tight, low-rise, bleached jeans. Perfect for her purpose- casual, yet cute. Now shoes, a very important consideration. Hmm. Maybe those black ones with the little silver buckles on the side? Nah, to winter-y and heavy for this outfit. Flip flops? No, too day at the beach-y. How about those new white sandals with the high heels? They _did_ make her look about three inches taller, and height was very important to the petite blonde. Did they match her outfit? Yes. Would they be comfy during long hours of shopping? They looked like they would be. New white sandals it was, then.

Her important Shoe Selection Process over for the time being, Buffy got dressed and walked out to the kitchen, a little scared what she'd find brewing. Forget drugs, her little sis's concoctions were way more lethal. Buffy was sure it would be one of the most effective poisons in the world if anyone was stupid enough to ignore the ugly color, thick gloopeyness, and really bad smell to actually try it.

"Hey, Buffy," Dawn said, annoyingly perky for someone who was supposed to have gotten as little sleep as the rest of the Scooby Gang.

"Want some?"

The teenager waved her goo-covered spatula around in the air, making her sister wince when little bits of sort-of-food hit the wall and ceiling and stuck there, defying all known laws of gravity.

"Um, what is it?" Buffy ventured cautiously.

"A frozen peas and broccoli, carrot juice, ketchup, bread, and peanut butter smoothie," Dawn answered.

Trying not to comment on anything that might hurt her sister's feelings, Buffy asked, "Where'd you get the frozen stuff? And the carrot juice? I know we don't use any of that here… well, until today, anyway." She added.

"Oh, it was some of that stuff Giles keeps dropping off. Why does he do that, anyway? Doesn't he get that vegetables are for health nuts and old people who wanna turn young?" Dawn asked as she poured her smoothie out into a cup.

"Dawnie, why do you have a spatula?" the Slayer asked.

Dawn shrugged.

"I tried to turn it into an omelet after I put the smoothie stiff in the blender, but if just kind of flopped- so smoothie city!"

Buffy inwardly cringed. Distraction would be good right now.

"Hey! Why don't you put your smoothie in the fridge and we can go shopping!" the blonde said, hoping her smile didn't falter as she looked at the Icky Cup of Grossness in her sister's hand.

Dawn looked even more hyper.

"Oh, shopping!" she agreed immediately.

The brunette's smile fell as she heard someone knock at the door.

"Or not," Dawn continued, "I hope it's not that crazy religious lady from next door. She scares me."

Buffy nodded emphatically as she went to answer the door. Mrs. Hinkley was a middle-aged woman who lived with her daughter. She'd already been by the apartment twice, trying to convince the girls to go to church more often before going off on long theological sermons that had actually made Buffy fall asleep the last time.

"Hi," Buffy said as she opened the door, then she saw who stood behind the door and her polite, but pissed off expression changed into one that was blank and expressionless- a mask.

"Dawnie, call Giles," the Slayer called over her shoulder.

"Okay. What do I tell him?" Dawn yelled back, smoothie in one hand and phone in the other.

Buffy didn't answer, just stepped back and let their visitors come in. Dawn's mouth formed a perfect o of surprise, and the teen turned around and went into the kitchen, most likely to rant to Giles and call the Order members some words that Buffy didn't want to know Dawn knew. The Slayer put a false smile on and a convincingly polite tone. She wished that things were easier on them all, but there was too much history between the leaders of the two completely different groups, and too much pain. But everyone would join the Hellmouth patented Twelve Steps To Repairing Friendships program, and things would be peachy again. Step Number One, don't resort to violence. Killing and maiming people is bad. You can't make up with someone if they're dead.

"Hey guys, glad you dropped by," she chirped.

Harry looked mildly surprised by her cheerful welcome, but that wasn't surprising, considering they had been faced with a pissed off Willow and a cat eyed Slayer. Not the best way to restart things on the right foot.

"Yeah, well, we thought that it would only be polite to take you up on your offer," he quickly recovered, the precise British words contrasting with the blonde's light, relaxed accent.

"That's great. So… how've you all been?" Buffy's words were awkward, and she could tell that Harry and Ron hated this as much as she did, but there didn't seem any way to go back to normal.

"So, are we going to actually do anything, or is standing here like a bunch of poncy gits with our wands stuck up our arses the order of the day?" a voice drawled.

Buffy's eyes widened at the sound of that voice. Could it be? Her eyes flew up to those of the speaker. As soon as the thought flew through her mind, she immediately rejected it. The differences were there. Icy gray eyes as opposed to silvery blue, platinum blond hair that hung long and loose, instead of short and spiky. The voice wasn't as low. He was shorter then her vampire, and not as toned and lean. Fit for a human, yes, but without the muscle mass of a vampire. The clothes were baggy and blue, compared to the tight fitting black leather Spike had loved so much. The cheekbones were a little bit lower, though not much, the way he held himself so different from the cocky stance of the second vampire with a soul. It wasn't Spike. He wasn't Spike. Disappointment flooded Buffy's stomach. It had been a far-fetched idea to think that Spike was back, but she hadn't been able to stop herself from hoping.

The strange blonde man looked at her, surprised.

"Who are you?" Buffy asked him, mostly composed again, leaving the others wondering as to the reason behind her sudden freeze up.

To the Slayer's surprise, the blonde man began to laugh. Buffy looked at him like he was competing with Drusilla in the Most Insane Person In the Universe Pageant.

"Was that funny?" Buffy asked him dryly. "Because you've got a kind of humor that's not. Geez, talk much? I mean, you obviously don't get out a lot, since the dead look is way old, I mean, what are you? A Living Dead wannabe? And your manners? Got a little something missing. It's a teeny tiny little thing called being normal. You know, where you go all the way outside your little hole in the ground and talk to the geeks in the cave next door."

The blonde didn't know why, but something about the annoying blonde man just pissed her off. It was the only explanation she could give herself as to why she had suddenly started on a high school Cordelia insult spree. The fact that the young man actually seemed mildly impressed and more then a little amused by her bit of Spike Jr. bashing was just adding to it.

He raised an eyebrow at her.

"So the little bookworm finally grew some teeth," he commented in that annoying, familiar drawl of his, "and a few other things, too."

Familiar?

Buffy could feel his eyes looking her up and down, savoring the tight outfit she was wearing. She twirled in her cute, but comfy heels.

"You like?" she asked seductively.

Sure, she was so _not_ interested in someone who could easily pass for her ex's twin- again, a wound that wasn't healed yet- but a little harmless flirting wouldn't hurt. She twirled backwards, so that she was going closer and closer to the stranger. Soon she was pressed right against his body, and still twirling. He moved his arms to stop her, but the Slayer caught them and held them around her, still twirling them both backwards. She backed him against the wall, pushed on top of him, crushing him there, and letting a few of those assets that he had just admired do some talking. The small blonde rose up on her tip toes, pressing even harder as she did so. She stopped when her mouth was even with his ear.

"I think you do, or do you have two wands in your pants?" her breath tickled his ear, hot and intense.

Buffy gave him a sultry grin and ground her hips into his, copying a move Faith had used far too many times to count. She stepped back keeping one hand on his chest and using it to hold him against the wall.

"You might be a halfway decent human being, Malfoy," she smirked at him, still not letting him up, "and maybe even a good fuck."

Draco gulped as she stopped applying pressure to his chest. The Slayer turned around to find not five, but _thirteen_ pairs of eyes staring at her, and thirteen mouths hanging open. Then Xander let out a whistle.

"Faith would've been proud of that, Buff," he said appreciatively.

Kennedy gave her a lascivious grin.

"Wanna join me and Will some time?" she asked, looking incredibly horny, like only a Slayer can.

Buffy returned the grin and Xander looked like all of his dreams had finally come true.

"Any time," she responded, eyes sparkling.

"Okay," Ron said huskily, "how come she treated us like she wanted to bite our head off, but practically shagged Draco?"

"Who?" the Scoobies asked.

"Draco Mal-," the flustered blonde began to introduce himself, but was cut off by about half a dozen very loud interruptions.

"_SPIKE_!"

Draco shook his head at the crazy Americans. What was wrong with them, anyway? Granger spent eight years with them, and it had had turned her into some scary, cat eyed harlot, Merlin only knew what the others would end up doing. Then his lust filled mind registered something said mad woman and two more- one was the frightening red-turned-white head with all of the powers and glowy green eyes, and the other the small, flirty looking brunette- had said a few minutes ago. Granger wanted to shag the girls!

In the middle of Buffy's explanation that Draco was _not_ Spike, he ruined any chance for dignity he might have had- which, admittedly, was not a lot- by bursting out with,

"You boff women?"

Which immediately set everyone except the two women who did just that into fits of laughter.

"Do you have a problem with that?" Willow asked sweetly, her eyes narrowing dangerously.

Draco shook his head hurriedly, not wanting to incur the Wicca's wrath again. His fellow Order members especially loved this. One rarely ever got to see the unflappably cool Malfoy heir- which he still was, mainly thanks to the shortage of other Malfoys and the multitude of more pressing tasks- uncomfortable, let alone outright stunned. It was a rare and happy moment- for those who would use this day as blackmail for the rest of the unfortunate one-time ferret's life.

"So, since there's no blood on the floor I'll take a stab at the Daily Double and guess you're finally speaking to each other," Giles surmised.

"Pretty much," Buffy agreed, "but we're pretty far from the mushy-gushiness."

"I figured that much," Giles told her.

"Can someone translate that?" a young woman with shaggy black hair asked.

"Okay, - hold on, who are you?" Buffy asked.

"Nymphadora Tonks," Tonks answered, "but I'll hex anyone who calls me by my infernal name. It's Tonks."

"You're name is Nymphomaniac?" Buffy gasped, "Wow, you're parents weren't too optimistic about the future, huh?"

For some mysterious reason, everyone in the room began to suffer from _coughing_ fits. Tonks looked indignant.

"My name is _not_ Nymphomaniac, and I most certainly am not one. Do any of you think of anything besides sex?" she asked, irritated.

"You say that like it's a bad thing," Anya commented.

The Scoobies all closed their eyes and bit back groans. This was not going to be an embarrassing day, right?

_As if_.

    

Buffy walked along the sidewalk, chatting with Ginny. The Scooby women were introducing the two Order of the Phoenix representatives to the wonderful world of Muggle fashions. Needless to say, they loved every minute of it. Giles and Xander had taken the other guys back to Council Headquarters, and Andrew… well, Andrew had just tagged along with them, muttering little comments that made no sense to anyone who didn't have the brain and DNA of a geek.

The tension was there, no one was revealing anything personal, and everything was strictly kept to the lighter subjects, but it was a start. And so far, Buffy, the Scoobies, and the other witches and wizards were acing Step Number One of the Twelve Steps To Repairing Friendships Program. Now, all they needed was another few months of normalcy.

That hope was completely shattered in Bloomingdale's. Anya began to levitate and the other women quickly pulled her into an empty dressing room. When the vision was over she looked at Ginny and Tonks.

"You need our help," she said.

The two witches looked at each other but stayed silent.


	9. Chapter Nine

**Title: Story of a Girl**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything. At all. If I did, I'd have more money then God and would never have canceled _BtVS_ and _Angel_.

**Summary: **A teenage girl is given an impossible destiny. She's taken away from everything she knows and everyone thinks she's dead. Eight years later, she's back, and in for one hell of a fight.

**Distribution: **Just ask if you want to use this.

**Spoilers: **All of _Buffy_ and _Angel_. Through GoF, and some minor ones from OotP.

**a/n: **Oh my gosh! I can't believe the response I got to the last three chapters! It's amazing! Well, I better get to replying then, huh?

**Jenna Summers**- Thanks _so_ much! I was on a roll Sunday (Saturday I power shopped, and Sunday I was hyped up on chocolate covered strawberries) and the sugar must have affected my brain because I just can't stop writing! Which is pretty shocking because I normally suck with updates! It might have something to do with the fact that no one was having any parties because we just had our last night of the play on Saturday. Anyway, I love the cookie idea! I'd forgotten all about the "will be done" episode. Poor Giles. Do you mind if I use it in one of the later steps? I've got something really funny planned out for the last chapter of this fic, which is a long, long, _long_ way off.

**Lightdemondarkangel**- Thank you! Don't worry, the 12 Step program is going to be around for a while. I'm planning to let it go through all (or most) of this story. For that reason, it won't be a step a chapter, there has to be some work involved, you know, before another one is completed. I'm glad you liked it.

**Charmed-angel4-** thanks for your review. I tried to make Buffy's explanation as authentic as possible.

**goddessa39- **I'm glad you like it. Draco and Spike are not related, sorry, they just look like it. Giles didn't know about the Wizarding World, the former Council Heads (Quentin Travers and his toadies) were about the only people who did. I'm not revealing the pairing yet. You're all just going to have to wait, because I'm a mean, evil author, and telling everyone what the pairings are would be nice. God, that sounded more pathetic then Andrew, didn't it?

**E-** I'm glad you liked the little details. They were just bits and pieces that I threw in to make the story seem like it could have happened on the TV show had Joss Whedon been a fan of crossovers. That means relating Buffy to Hermione and not skimping on the Scooby-ness, but keeping characters like Andrew and Faith away from most of the "spotlight" no matter how much it pains me.

**Enchantress10-** I'm not revealing the pairing, sorry. I'm will tell you that I love just about every pairing out there as long as it's well written and could actually happen- hence my hatred of Spike/Angel, which just creeps me out.

**Vld-** You are right, compared to the things the Scoobies have faced, old Voldy is nothing. Trust me when I say the "murderer" comment will come back to bite Harry in the ass, but it won't be soon. That is part of why there is so much tension between our two favorite groups. You can bet that if Buffy hadn't been so pissed off about what Harry had said to her they would all be on Step Two of the program.

**Alen Pitt-** I've got to say, you hit a lot of what I'm trying to get across. And it is sad that Buffy will relate to Draco more then she will Harry and Ron, but that's that. Harry and Ron got off easy, compared to Buffy. The only reason they're fighting is for their own good, not because other people depend on them. The whole Wizarding World- both sides, good and bad- are in it for that reason, whereas Buffy and the Scooby Gang have had to fight evil to help preserve good in the world, for other people, not themselves, because they could all easily die trying to fight the good fight. The Scooby Gang can't hope for peace to raise their children and go back to menial things, they literally live to die, and that's pretty damned selfless compared to the wizards whose asses they're going to have to save.

**Anonymous- **Anya "belongs" to the Scooby Gang in general, they've all done way too much together for her not to.

**Just Me-** Thank you, thank you, thank you! Reviews make my day! Yay!

**Etoile Star**- Thanks. A lot of people seem to like the little things like that! I'm so proud! And I'm trying to break my very bad updating record, so I need encouragement (hint hint). Yay, I've got reviews!

**Taryn-** Thank you for your review! I'm glad you liked it, happy, amused people are always good for the world. Wow, that almost sounded philosophical, didn't it? Hmm, strange. The sugar must really be screwing up my brain, huh?

**Keep reviewing people!

* * *

**

"Huh?" Buffy asked.

They were all standing in a dressing room when Anya had pronounced that the Slayer's old/new friends needed help. Kennedy didn't get it, though. She knew that things had been on edge, but why wouldn't they tell Buffy if there was some big bad threatening them? After all, she _was_ the Slayer. The _Head Slayer_, the longest lived, coolest, smartest, most amazing Slayer in history. Okay, so some of that was just the young Slayer's opinion, but still. If you had a problem you called Buffy, it was just the way the world worked. Then Buffy told everyone else, and the problem got fixed. However, the two English witches- and no matter how much Kennedy tried, she couldn't think of Buffy as English, it just seemed so weird- were looking guilty, like children who had just been caught with their hands in the cookie jar.

Buffy's eyes narrowed.

"What didn't you tell us?" she asked, her voice low and threatening.

Kennedy couldn't blame her, after all, these people had said they missed her so much, and all of that other bullshit. Frankly, the brunette just couldn't see it. If they had loved her so much, why were they acting so strange? And why had that Harry guy started yelling at her last night? It didn't make sense at all. If they were so happy to see her, wouldn't those English people have started gabbing away and catching Buffy up with what she had missed? It was what Kennedy would have done if someone she loved went missing. What kind of friends were they? Personally, Kennedy thought Buffy was much better suited to the Scooby Gang, and not just because she and her Willow were a part of it.

    

Dawn could see her sister was barely stopping herself from flipping out on the other two witches. She mentally shook her head at said witches. The Key sincerely hoped she had never done anything that stupid. How could you go find the Slayer and not tell her when something was trying to kill people? She understood that they wanted to be friends again, first, and the trust was so not there, but sometimes you had to put your friends aside in order to help the greater good. Dawn had witnessed her sister and the other Scoobies do just that, time and again. If people were dying, you did whatever it took to make them safe, first. Usually, what it took was a super-sized dose of the Scooby Special, with extra Slayer on the side.

She followed the others through the Council building, unsure of where they were going. Where had Giles' secretary said they were? Was it room 107? No, room 108. What was that, anyway? The teenager knew she had been in the room at one time or the other, because the number seemed vaguely familiar, but Dawn couldn't place a well, _place_ to the "address". Then they turned a corner and the recognition set in. Room 108 was the library!

The girl began to snicker. It was just like Giles to take the five- six, if you counted Andrew, who Dawn had her doubts about- young men to the _library_. She watched as her older sister blazed into the room and looked around. She spotted the closed door that led to what had been dubbed the "war room" because it was where Giles went to escape the "endless chatter" that was constantly going on in his poor, messy, young American-filled office. He constantly forbade anyone from disturbing him in there, saying his "very sanity", with extra oomph on the British-ness, was at stake. Buffy strode toward the forbidden door purposefully and yanked it open.

When she saw what was inside, Dawn had to bite down a giggle. All six men were playing video games and eating pizza. Apparently the Scoobies really were a bad influence on the long-suffering Watcher. He and Xander appeared to be trying to teach them the benefits of Muggle living, while Andrew peppered the wizards with questions, all of which everyone else ignored. _Too bad Spike isn't here_, Dawn thought with a pang, _he would tell them everything about America, including hot wings and Passions. And I bet he would love Draco. Only in a not-icky sense, because two guys who look alike getting it on would be kinda creepy_.

She still missed the hilariously insulting blonde vampire who had been like her older brother. No one else seemed to, but Dawn was used to that. She had always been the one to like him the most… except for Buffy, but even that was a maybe. The big sis in question was currently telling Giles that Scooby Time was needed, like now, and not so subtly telling her former friends, now acquaintances, and potential friends that they needed to leave before their faces met with the pavement two stories below- and there wouldn't be any little technicalities like doors, for instance, to get in the way.

Giles' face went from mildly annoyed and really embarrassed to worried in about three seconds. A pretty impressive feat. The Hogwarts Crew, most of whom were clueless about the reason for the Slayer's wrath, left hurriedly.

"What happened?" Giles asked anxiously.

"Anya had a vision, and my _friends_ who were supposed to _trust_ me, trust _us_, enough to tell us about their resident evil guy, decided not to," Buffy huffed angrily.

"What did you see?" the Watcher asked Anya.

"An ugly guy with red eyes- he looked like Michael Jackson after his next ten surgeries- an old guy, that Harry kid, and a whole bunch of demons attacking some ugly old house, um, what was the address? Oh, Number Twelve Grimmauld Place," for once, the blunt ex-demon wasn't talking about sex, Xander, or her days as a Vengeance Demon, "it's going to be a massacre." She added softly, "and I'm not a demon anymore, so those aren't good."

"Do you know how much time we have?" Willow asked.

The liaison shook her head.

"It's going to happen soon, we have to hurry, and I just don't have an exact minute. I'm not one of those little clocks with the strange little birds coming out of them," Anya said.

"Let's get going," Giles said grimly.

"How long will it take to get the London Slayers together?" Buffy asked her Watcher.

"About an hour," Giles responded, already reaching for the phone.

Everyone looked towards the Seer/connection to the Powers That Be/ex-demon/former human.

"Do we have that much time?" Xander voiced the question that was on everyone's minds.

"I'm pretty sure. It looked like the sun was just about to go down when I saw it." Anya said uncertainly.

"We'll have to take that," Kennedy pointed out, "If there are a lot of demons, we need reinforcements."

Giles had already dialed his secretary.

"We need every Slayer and Watcher within forty miles of here to be armed and ready for battle at Grimmauld Place within an hour," he commanded, suddenly both looking and sounding very imposing, "make sure that they aren't late, this is an emergency."

Then he hung up and faced the group, his Slayer looking every bit as impressive as her Watcher.

"Everyone put your books away and your toys in a bag- we're going on a field trip, class," Buffy said, surveying the group.

    

Xander shifted the axe on his shoulder and peered out into the darkness. He vaguely thought he could see shapes moving, but he wasn't sure. This hallway was creepy enough as it was without imagining anything freaky in it, anyway.

"Hey Buff, why don't you stick the stuff you kill to the walls?" he whispered.

"Not enough wall, too much goth," she responded quietly, moving a bit to get more comfortable.

"Besides, the ick factor would too high to count," Willow added.

Xander could see the silhouette of Kennedy nod in the darkness.

Buffy had organized the London contingent of Council- really Scooby- forces into groups. Seeing the blonde, who could easily seem ditsy and air-headed, in pre-battle mode was always startling to anyone who didn't know her very well. Even now, the change still surprised Xander a little bit. She was all business, and between Buffy and Giles, their strategy had worked out pretty well.

Slayers and Watchers were hidden both in the darkness outside of the house and the eerie confines of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. They were spread out all over its four floors. No one was in the basement because Buffy figured it was pretty pointless. There didn't seem to be anyway down there. She had tried to open the door that led down there, and Willow had even used her magic, but the thing wouldn't budge. It was pretty safe to say that nothing would be able to come out of it. Besides, they had their hands full with the creepy house as it was.

If Xander had had any doubts as to why anything would want to attack Number Twelve's occupants, they had quickly gone away when he entered the house. Some evil people clearly lived here. He would bet his entire set of secret Justice League action figures that whoever lived here had pissed off whoever had sent the demonic murder squad during some evil deal thingy or the other. The young man could just hear them arguing over who got to try and start the apocalypse first. Or maybe it had been over poker. And kittens.

Just then, he heard something loud going on outside. The others clearly heard it, too, since they stiffened up. Some of the other Slayers began to stand up to go and help the fight, but Buffy whispered,

"Wait, they can take care of themselves, stuff's going to start coming in here, too."

As if on cue, a large, scaly, red demon crashed through the window… on the third floor. More of its kind quickly followed, and so the fight began.

    

Willow erected a shield between herself and the greenish-brown thingamabob that had tried to attack her. She wrinkled her nose in distaste. The shield wasn't protecting her from its evil, evil smells. _Ick_.

The Wicca lifted her hand to her mouth, palm up, and blew on it.

"Fire ball," she said.

The small ball of lethal flames flew off of her hand, riding along the small current of wind her breath had caused. It passed through her shield, gaining power as it did, and hit the demon square in the chest. The thing immediately caught fire. The redhead smiled. This wasn't so hard.

    

Buffy successfully dispatched her thirty second adversary. So far so good. Wow, evil was really loosing it touch, wasn't it? What happened to the good old days when all a girl had to do was wear necklace to summon a nice, evil-minded, homicidal demon with a good voice? Back then, the bad guys had been a lot classier, you know? Quite a few almost-scary death threats, a kidnapping or two, pointless warnings, and some very elegant puns. These things couldn't even talk! What was Buffy going to do with her extensive repertoire of witty one-liners? It was no fun when whatever you were killing was too stupid to understand you.

She beheaded number thirty three when she heard something behind her. Slayer fast, the blonde whipped around before her assailant could blink, scythe raised high. A brightly dressed, silver haired, long bearded, bespectacled, robe covered old man stared at her.

"Professor Dumbledore?" she gasped.

Anya walked up from behind her, having killed the last demon on the first floor. She looked at the Headmaster curiously.

"Your name is Professor HumbleWhore? Do you teach that class where midgets learn about sex?"


	10. Chapter Ten

**Title: Once Upon A Time**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything. At all. If I did, I'd have more money then God and would never have canceled _BtVS_ and _Angel_.

**Summary: **A teenage girl is given an impossible destiny. She's taken away from everything she knows and everyone thinks she's dead. Eight years later, she's back, and in for one hell of a fight.

**Distribution: **Just ask if you want to use this.

**Spoilers: **All of _Buffy_ and _Angel_. Through GoF, and some minor ones from OotP.

**a/n: **To anyone who is either a Cordelia-holic or addicted to crossovers (I'm both), read **clcountry**'s story _Merging With the Traffic_.

I'm really sorry it took me so long to update, but I couldn't log in for, like, a week. I had to get my parents to spend three hours playing with the cookies and security on my computer to make it work. Turns out there was a virus and those three hours did diddly squat. I bought a new computer and now, here I am, along with a brand spanking new chapter. In case you wanted to know, I'm really hyped up about all of the reviews I got! I'm so happy! Now, time to respond to those reviews…

**clcountry- **You rock! I'm glad you liked this chapter. The Professor HumbleWhore line just kind of popped into my head, and I thought, why not go with it? I'm so glad you updated! Chapter Six was really great!

**Moonjava-** Thank you.

**Sarah-** Sorry if you're roommates think you're crazy. If it comforts you, lots of my friends think I'm crazy, too. I'm glad you liked this chapter.

**Lightdemondarkangel- **I know Hermione wasn't with the little witches and wizards for Order of the Phoenix. That's why she's surprised to find Dumbledore coming out of the basement, and that's why she didn't warn Harry about Anya's vision, or know what the Order is. Buffy's hiding out upstairs because she doesn't want the people she thinks live there to find her, and about a hundred Slayers and Watchers, breaking into their house, fully armed. The reason the Scooby Gang and company can see and get into Grimmauld Place is because Anya got the vision straight from the Powers That Be, who are a lot stronger than Dumbledore.

**Jenna Summers- **Thank you a whole lot. About Kennedy, I figured she would mellow out a bit after not only spending a year with Willow, saving people's lives, and getting older, and therefore more mature, but the whole being Chosen thing tends to make people grow up. I'm glad I can use the cookie thing! It's got a big future ahead of it during Step Twelve.

**Charmed-angel4-** Thanks! Everyone seems to have loved Anya's first words to Professor Dumbledore, personally, I'm pretty proud of them myself.

**LizaGirl-** Of course they're going to have setbacks! Things wouldn't be normal if life actually went well for the Scoobies! But they have to do the whole one step forward, two steps back, thing, first.

**Spikes Girl5- **Thank you. I'm trying to keep the updates coming fast.

**Etoile Star- **I'm glad you liked it! Yes, the scythe is the same one that was used to activate all of the Slayers. You know how Buffy is about her weapons, do you really think she would part with her favorite shiny new toy?

**Alen Pitt- **I never said Old Voldy wouldn't ally with one of the Slayer-verse villains, did I? (Insert hint here) I might use some of those Dumbledore nicknames, just to warn you. No, Cordelia and Anya didn't share an intimate moment. There can be more than one Seer in the world, you know? I never said anything about Spike and Angel, either. (Insert really big hint) You're right about Harry and Ron, but the reconnection bit won't happen for a while. Even then, it'll be slow. The whole shaky truce in the face of a big honking fight? Much with the likeliness. Which means all of those little problems of theirs are going to come out to bite everyone in their respective asses when you least expect it.

**naiya-isis-** You and I? Thinking along the same lines. Mrs. Weasley has enough of a problem with Ron saying "Bloody Hell!", let alone sex talk at the table. Hee hee hee.

**NikiNox- **You're bound to have a whole lot of laughs before this story ends.

**chicklepea- **I'm so happy you like this! Interesting point you brought up, I'm going to have to watch Harry Potter Three again.

**Goddessa39- **Much with the happiness right now. See the reply to **Jenna Summers**' review about Kennedy. I figured everyone was stressed and out of line at some point or the other during Season Seven, but it would take a lot more then that to disregard everything they've all been through together. I'm not saying a word about the pairings. Not one word.

**Heain-** Hi! Hi! Hi! I'm glad you liked it! You probably don't need any tips, you know. Start posting on here so I can find out! I already knew when _Once More, With Feeling_ was on because I checked the FX website last night (Tuesday) and my TV is set to record both _Once More, With Feeling_ and _Tabula Rasa_ on Friday.

**Vld-** Who knows how all of their minds work? Especially Snape and Dumbledore.

**Slays-** They were downstairs in the meeting, that's why Dumbledore opened the door just as Buffy and Anya were finishing up their part of the first floor.

**Bob the Almighty-** Thanks… I think.

**Just Me-** Thank you for your Anya appreciation. The cellar door couldn't be opened because that was where the Order has its meetings. Remember, the meetings are in the kitchen, which OotP said was in the basement along with Kreacher's den.

**gabrieldarke- **Thanks. I'm not going to say anything about Faith yet. Wow, I'm almost showing discretion! Yay, me! I'm so proud!

**Damia - Queen of the Gypsi's- **The class for midgets to learn how to have sex is Sex Ed.

**Vampyr Moon-** Anya sort of asks your question for you, in, oh I don't know… two paragraphs!

**Wouldn't U Like To Know?- **Thanks so much for the review! The wizards are pretty much underestimating the whole Scooby Gang. The only Buffy, or Hermione, they knew was anything but super-strong. They think the rest are just a bunch of Muggles, although Willow and Buffy probably have them a little scared. Buffy knows everything about Voldemort that she knew at the end of her fourth year, nothing more, nothing less. Sorry it took me so long to update this story, but I couldn't log in.

Wow! These are getting longer and longer, and I couldn't be happier! Keep reviewing! Now back to our regularly scheduled programming.

* * *

Five minutes had passed since Buffy had run into Dumbledore, and in those five minutes, people still hadn't closed their mouths. Buffy would've recommended it, but she was too busy trying not to laugh at the expressions on the witches' and wizards' faces. Back when she'd still been Hermione Granger, Buffy would have never thought that the Headmaster could actually look completely floored. Of course, she'd never thought that you'd be able to tell, either, through that entire long beard, but you could. And the effect was hilarious.

"Why are you all looking at me like that?" Anya demanded. "He just said his name is Professor HumbleWhore! Where did that name come from, anyway? Because all of the whores I ever met weren't very humble. But that might have been because of the screaming. It turns out that angry wives are never too happy with the other woman- especially when they're pretty. Why is that? I think it's discrimination. They should wish just as much pain and suffering on the ugly ones," Anya said, just shocking her audience even more.

By now, Buffy's shoulders were shaking as she struggled not to laugh. She could very clearly remember her own reaction to some of Anya's comments, back in the days before she developed an immunity to them- well, in most cases. Naturally, Dumbledore was the first to recover, but only because a distraction was posed. The distraction came in the form of Willow Rosenberg- Wicca, redhead, and lesbian extraordinaire. Said Wiccan was leading her very own platoon of Slayers, and barking orders at them in a way that showed just how much time she had been spending with Kennedy.

"March! Check every room! I don't want to leave a single demon alive, do you understand me?" the loud voice, coupled with Willow's legendary resolve face, seemed very out of place on the woman, yet she was clearly enjoying herself.

As the Slayers moved past the stunned Order members to check out the basement, Willow walked over to Buffy, her military commandant attitude completely gone.

"Did you see me?" Willow beamed excitedly. "I just told people what to do! And, and, they listened. Only I wasn't all brunette and veiny, y'know? I was Impressive Willow! And no one had to get threatened, either, cuz that would be bad. A really big bad thing."

"Calm down, Will," Buffy laughed as her friend rambled on, "You were much with imposing-ness. Go Team Willow!"

The old wizard behind them cleared his throat.

"Miss Granger? Miss… Willow? Do you mind explaining what just happened? And what exactly you are doing here?" Dumbledore asked the three young women.

"Well, Anya called you a ho and Willow turned into Initiative Girl," Buffy explained.

The Headmaster of Hogwarts didn't think he could remember a time when he was more embarrassed. Between the vulgar comments and that annoying nickname, his cheeks were brighter then the night he'd gone to drop Harry off at the Dursley's house. The beard wasn't helping to cover it up, either. Good Merlin, Miss Granger was still going on.

"Or would that be a man-ho, cuz you're a guy? Or is there another word for it? Like, prostratute, instead of prostitute? Anya, do you know?" Buffy asked her fellow blonde.

The former demon opened her mouth to answer, but fortunately, she was cut off as the other Scoobies, and the Slayers they were leading, came clattering down the stairs.

"Anya, don't answer that," Giles commanded.

Anya looked perplexed.

"Why not?" she asked.

"Because I don't want to know. Never will want to know, as a matter of fact. And I do not want to spend the next twenty years trying to get visions of where you learned the answer to that particular question out of my head," the Watcher sighed, reaching for his glasses.

Anya pouted but stayed silent. Which was a very good thing, seeing as most of the witches and wizards in the room were still frozen in shock. Mrs. Weasley looked like she was just barely stopping herself from clapping her hand over her children's ears. In fact, the only thing that was stopping her was the fact that she couldn't figure out which Weasley's ears to protect.

"Maybe we should, you know, figure out what the holy chocolate sauce is going on here?" Xander suggested.

Dumbledore turned to look at him.

"Yes, I must agree with Mr. ..." he trailed off, peering at the dark haired youth through his half-moon shaped spectacles.

"Harris, Xander Harris," Xander filled in, "Wow, that sounded James Bond-ish, didn't it? I'm the Secret Agent Man."

Giles rolled his eyes at the young man exasperatedly.

"Xander, now is not the time," he admonished.

Xander rolled his eyes.

"When is it the right time?" he demanded. "You're always "Now is not the time"," he mimicked the Watcher's accent, "when are you going to say "Xander, now is the perfect time to make witty and amusing sarcastic remarks"?"

"Perhaps when they actually become witty and amusing?" Giles advised.

Buffy snorted.

"You two sound like six year olds on the playground," she remarked.

"Wow," Kennedy murmured with a mischievous grin, "You actually almost sounded like a mature adult."

Buffy stuck her tongue out at the other Slayer.

"Says the crazy corrupting evil military chick," Xander drawled.

"Hey! That's my girlfriend you're talking to, Mister," Willow said indignantly.

Professor McGonagall emitted a strange sound half way between a choke and a gasp.

"Why don't we go into somewhere less… demon-filled?" Giles suggested hurriedly.

"I agree," Professor Dumbledore looked like he was seriously considering handing himself over to Voldemort before his shocked followers fully realized what they were hearing and tried to kill him for agreeing to spend more time with the crazy Americans.

    

Anya was bored. The old Merlin wannabe was _still_ talking! Why did humans spend so much time talking, anyway? Most of them weren't even funny, like Xander. Some of Xander's comments were very funny, and he wasn't as bad as most of the human males she had met. Except for the betrayal and leaving at the altar. But Anya figured she had punished him enough- unless he tried it again, that is. Right now, Xander was being a very good boyfriend. He gave her lots of expensive gifts and orgasms. That was good. Good Kormax, was that old nut still talking?

_No, Anya, you're just imagining it,_ Cordelia snapped inside the liaison's head.

_I wish I was imagining you, too,_ Anya thought, but she was happy for the distraction all the same.

HumbleWhore was getting annoying! How many times could you say how dangerous one puny wizard was? Once upon a time, Anya had used to like torturing wizards much more powerful then Lord I Got My Ass Kicked by a Midget Human. It's not like he was even that powerful! He started out as a common mortal _man_.

_Glad to see you still hate their gender in general,_ Cordelia thought dryly.

_I do not! It's just that women are clearly more superior to men,_ Anya explained.

_Can't disagree with you there,_ Cordelia agreed.

_Why are you in my head?_ Anya asked the newest Power That Is.

If she had been solid, and well, alive, Cordelia Chase would have rolled her eyes. Of course, if she had still been alive, Cordelia wouldn't be having this conversation in the first place.

_I like your company?_ She asked coyly.

_Cordelia, I am over twelve hundred years old. I know when someone is not telling me something. And I want to know!_ Anya knew that last part had come out sounding whiny, even in her head, but who cared? Only mortals bothered hiding their feelings.

_Pfft. Fine, whatever. We need your help,_ the ex- Seer declared.

_Huh? I thought you were one of the almighty, big, magnificent, holier then me, Powers That Aren't. Why do you need my help?_ Anya asked, annoyingly blunt, as always.

And Cordelia was annoyed.

_We're not perfect, you know. Us Powers are only people who oversee things on Earth, there's plenty of us in other dimensions. We monitor what's going on, and we've seen some pretty freaky stuff. Which is why we need your help, you dumbass,_ Cordelia explained testily.

_We? Who we? How many we's am _I _going to be helping?_ Anya asked suspiciously.

_Me, Doyle, Jesse, Tara, Darla, Jenny, Fred- everyone who still wants to help. Now, stop being so damned paranoid. Get Giles to figure something out for us, God knows he's a walking brain, anyway. Tell him to find out what the hell this stupid prophecy thing means, _Cordelia ordered.

_Aren't you the ones who _make _the prophecies?_ Anya asked.

_Aren't you just full of questions today?_ The ex- May Queen sniped, _We only give people prophecies of things we know will happen in the future. Once in a while, something- don't ask what, because I don't know either- drops a bunch of words in our heads with instructions to tell them to someone who can help figure out what they mean. In this case, you._

_Why not Giles? _Anya asked.

_Can you picture the expression on his face if he found me poking around in his head? He's way too English for that. Besides, you're the _liaison _to _us_. As in connection, lackey, toadie, messenger, are you getting the picture here? _Cordelia snapped.

Anya- solid and very much alive- rolled her eyes to the ceiling.

_Yeah, although I should be getting some kind of payment for this. It's the custom in this world, and since it's your duty to watch over this place, I think you should observe them._

_Okay, whatever you say_. Power That Is or not, Cordy was starting to get annoyed. _The prophecy is 'The angels fall from Heaven's light, deep into the darkest night. The circle is broken. The earth shakes. A champion bears a token, that rivals all the enemy makes. Beneath the surface the beast roars. From the sky, blood pours. Hear the child's call and listen. Will they answer or will they fall?' Nice, cheerful theme, right?_

Anya mentally reviewed the gloomy little ditty until she had it committed to memory.

_How am I supposed to tell Giles about this without letting him know Higher Powers consider my head their own personal Hawaii?_

_Make up some theatrical oh-my-god-I'm-seeing-pain-and-death act, _Cordelia suggested, _You should've seen some of the crap this Trelawney woman tries to pull. Pfft, as if predicting someone's going to die a horrible and painful death makes you a Seer. Sunnyhell would've been able to start their own Psychics Only town if that was true._

Anya mentally snorted. She had met more then her fair share of annoying frauds in her life.

"Ahn?"

_Since when do you call me Ahn? _The Power's…lackey asked.

_That wasn't me, dumbass,_ the lackey's boss replied.

_Huh?_

But Cordelia was gone, and Anya was faced with whole roomful of people looking at her like she had lost her mind.

"Oh, what?" Anya asked.

She saw that the other Scoobies and some very disgruntled Slayers were standing near the door, clearly ready to go. Well, now was as good a time as any, right?

_CORDELIA!_ She mentally screamed.

The ex demon registered the Higher Power's presence in her mind less then a moment later.

_What?_ Cordelia asked anxiously.

_How do I start floating? _Anya demanded.

_Oh. Geez, trivial much? God, I'm a Higher Power, I have more important things to do, you know, _Cordy huffed.

_Unless you don't want me to have a fake vision, I better learn how to float, _Anya pointed out.

_Fine, just close your eyes and picture it in your head, _the brunette- although you couldn't tell- instructed.

_Okay, now what?_

_Open your eyes, you moron,_ Queen C was very much still in Cordelia. Maybe too much.

"Oh," Anya said softly, looking down.

She was a good three feet off of the ground. That was a lot more then her visions normally caused. Of course, she hadn't actually had a vision.

"Anya?" Xander asked worriedly, looking up at his ex-fiancée, current girlfriend, and former enemy.

"Can you get me down from here?" Anya asked calmly.

"Uh, sure," Xander asked, a little confused.

Normally when Anya had a vision she would start talking about it right away. Then there was that weird expression on her face. It was the same one she had worn when Willow had cast the forgetting spell. Like there was something buried underneath what the face she was showing the world. Back then, it was the fact that she was an ex demon and most definitely not engaged to Anya. Now, it was… well, Xander didn't know what it was, but he was going to find out. But first, they had to stop the one woman he wanted to spend his life with from banging her head off of the ceiling.

    

Harry stared after the group as they left. What had just happened?

If you wanted to get technical, Harry already knew what had happened. But the perplexed young wizard was still very confused. He knew that somehow or the other, monsters had attacked the Order. He knew that Hermione, her Snoopies, and quite a few young girls who were impossibly strong for their size. He could have sworn that Hermione had lifted one of those ugly things up with one hand and thrown it across the room. But that didn't make any sense. Hermione was tiny. She didn't seem to have grown at all since he'd last seen her.

But how had she been able to lift that scythe? Hermione didn't look like she could open a tightly closed jar, let alone kill something. Oh well, it must have been a trick of the light. Or lack of. Harry pushed the thought to the back of his mind, preferring to figure out just what was going on with his once best friend. Not that she viewed it that way, not anymore. Harry wished things could go back to making sense. Then, things had been easy. Not always perfect, perhaps, but simple. Voldemort equals bad, Dumbledore equals good, Ron and Hermione equal friends. Voldemort plus Harry equals bad. Ron and Hermione help Harry. See? Simple.

Now, it was more like Harry equals angry, sad, short tempered, ass. Ron equals sad, lost, and confused. Dumbledore equals an old man trying to figure out what was right. Hermione equals one very large mystery. The only thing that hadn't changed was Voldemort. Voldemort still equaled bad. Although, the way everything else was going, Harry wouldn't have been very surprised if the Dark Lord decided he wanted to be good and start his own Quidditch Shop. In fact, Harry would have bought the first broom.

When did things get so complicated? When did people stop caring? When did _Hermione _stop caring? Once upon a time Hermione Granger had placed nothing above her friends. Now, that might not have changed, but her friends had.

And deep down, Harry knew why that bothered him so much. Why he couldn't really bring himself to try to talk to her, learn more about the life his best friend had led, and get to know the strange people she had befriended. Harry Potter felt guilty.

Why hadn't he noticed something was wrong? Why hadn't he wondered when there was no funeral? Why hadn't he checked the flight list? Gone to the memorial service? Went to visit Hermione's nonexistent grave, and figured out the truth? Why hadn't he tried to contact one of her relatives? He knew she had tons of cousins, and therefore, aunts and uncles. Why? Why? Why?

Why hadn't Dumbledore known? Or at least suspected? Harry had long ago lost any notion that Dumbledore was perfect. Those had fled the second he'd found out just how much Dumbledore had kept from him, including information about the prophecy that meant so much, and would leave Harry so little. Either Voldemort would kill Harry or Harry would kill Voldemort. That left Harry with the decision to become a murderer or become murdered. And the knowledge that he would have to keep himself alive so people still had hope. That he would have to let people die to save him, just because he was the only one who could kill Voldemort.

Knowledge can be deadly, and the knowledge of Hermione's non-death was creating a lot of little problems in Harry's mind. Maybe if he had stopped grieving for Cedric, he would have noticed that something was wrong with Hermione. Maybe all of this could have been avoided if he had just been a little more perceptive. Maybe Hermione could have avoided all of this trouble and stayed with them, or at least gotten rescued within a week, if someone had noticed. Maybe they could have defeated Voldemort already, if he'd had his friends behind him and spent the year happy, instead of mourning Hermione. Maybe they could all be leading happy lives, free from the threat of evil, with careers, and children, and families, and life. Laughter, fun, peace, normalcy. All of them were the things that every good wizard craved. Once upon a time it had been a possibility. Now Harry didn't think that any of those things would ever happen. Still, the responsibility of defeating Voldemort hung like a heavy cloak over his face. It was suffocating him. He didn't think he would ever be able to die in peace. In his last moments, Harry was sure that the accusing glares of everyone he loved would be upon him. Asking him why he hadn't stayed alive longer. Blaming him for not saving them, and for being able to escape this world for the alleged paradise beyond the veil.

Then everyone would blame him, like they still didn't, although Harry felt like they should. If he was supposed to save everyone, why hadn't he done so already? Why had he let so many people die? Why were there some many _should have done_s, _could have done_s, _if_s, and _why_s? And when would Harry really feel the peace he so wanted? Was it in paradise? Was there a heaven? Or would he be condemned to Hell for the deaths of all of the people Voldemort had had the chance to murder because Harry wasn't strong enough? Would he go anywhere at all? Because Harry was losing the belief in such a thing as Heaven.

    

Buffy looked around the living room and felt a little tug deep inside. Once in a very long while she could forget all of the horrors of Earth, and truly know that she had a heaven all to herself. They were little glimpses of what was to come after death that were made even sweeter by how rare they were. Once in a very long while, Buffy knew what one instant of perfect happiness was. It wasn't a hyper, active happiness, it was just contentment. Peace, safety, the knowledge that nothing could go wrong and everything could go right. Security, but without limits, the kind that comes from knowing anything is possible.

If an outside observer glanced at the Summers' living room, it would be obvious why Buffy felt that way. Every single Scooby- if not all of the people she loved, damn near close- was assembled. They weren't angry, no one was grumpy, and a rare sense of togetherness filled the room. Only to run away with its tail between its legs the second Anya opened her mouth and recounted her happy new prophecy.

"Well," Xander said after his fiancée was done, "doesn't that sound perky and not vaguely apocalyptic?"

"No," Dawn said, with all of her suave teenage tact.

Xander heaved an aggrieved sigh.

"This conversation is going to end with me leaving to get donuts, isn't it?" he asked, with the air of a martyr.

"Yes," Giles said, reaching for his coat, "meet us back at my office."

As he spoke, the other Scoobies could see his "research mode" expression descend upon his face.

"Bring oxygen tanks, he might not come up for days," Buffy remarked, referring to Giles.

Xander saluted.

"Will do, Captain Slayer," he promised, going to get the indispensable donuts.

    

Cordelia looked into the pool worriedly. What was going on?

"Guys!" she called anxiously.

* * *

Hee hee hee. I'm evil, I know. The cliffhanger was just a tad mean. And it's going to stay that way unless people respond to this survey.

I know it's petty. I know it's mean. But I'll do it anyway. I'm holding Chapter Eleven for ransom. The price? You answer these in either your review or in an e-mail to me (see my user page) or Chapter Eleven never sees the light of your computer screen. Don't worry, the answers can be short.

    

What do you think will/should be the pairing in this story?

Who do you think is/will/should be the villain(s) in this story?

How well do you think the characters are portrayed?

Who is your favorite character? Why?

What is your favorite pairing? Why?

What's your favorite part of this fic? Why?

What is your least favorite part of this fic? Why?

What do you think will/should happen in this fic?

Questions? Comments? Complaints?


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Title: Once Upon A Time**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything. At all. If I did, I'd have more money then God and would never have canceled _BtVS_ and _Angel_.

**Summary: **A teenage girl is given an impossible destiny. She's taken away from everything she knows and everyone thinks she's dead. Eight years later, she's back, and in for one hell of a fight.

**Distribution: **Just ask if you want to use this.

**Spoilers: **All of _Buffy_ and _Angel_. Through GoF, and some minor ones from OotP.

**a/n: **I have chocolate. I'm happy. I'm glad so many people replied to the survey! They were really helpful! These are all of the replies to the reviews from Chapter Ten. I got so many! I'm really really really happy! I'm also sorry for making everyone wait so long for an update, but I've been working on a musical with some of my friends and I haven't had a lot of spare time on my hands.

Now, to address some concerns…

**Jenna Summers- **Thank you, thank you, thank you, for replying to the survey. I really appreciate your suggestions. Don't worry, I'm working on the update thing.

**Etoile Star-** Yeah! You did the survey, too! I'm glad some people are. The answers are really useful. Giles will have a bit about the jellies in here, don't worry. I already had that planned.

**clcountry-** Tonks will be in one of the future parings, if I can manage it in this. She'll definitely be in the sequel. Remember, Hermione was acting distinctly Hermione-like when she first moved to LA. You know how she was always really determined to research? Well, her family was threatened, she just re-applied that determination to acting. I think it explains why she was so good at keeping everyone fooled. Sorry, I don't think I'd be able to write an Evil Andrew without cracking up and falling off of my computer chair from laughing too hard. I hope you do, just so I can read it!

**goddessa39- **I think that the Scoobies had a year to get over the whole "let betray Buffy" kick, and realize how wrong they were. Buffy saving their asses in the battle against the First, and losing so many people might have drawn them closer together again. I hate cliffhangers when I'm reading something, too. But I'm addicted to writing them! Maybe I should go to CA- Cliffaholics Anonymous.

**Alen Pitt- **I'm not revealing anything about the prophecy at this point. Not a thing. As the story progresses there will be more character reactions and Hermione-ness coming out in Buffy. I figured it would have been a while since Buffy had seen anything from her past, and when she does, it will bring out a few Hermione traits.

**Slays- **I am seriously working on updating faster, don't worry.

**manticore-gurl071134-** thank you.

**DyingRoses-** Snape was only mentioned briefly in Chapter Three or Chapter Four, I think. I know he was mentioned in the chapter where the Order is trying to figure out who Buffy is, but I'm too lazy to check which Chapter that is.

**Bob the Almighty-** Check out all of the pairing related author notes in the other chapters. I'm not even sure there's going to be any pairing in this fic. It might be in the sequel, if I ever do one. I'm not sure if it would work with all of the issues floating around. The reason I posed the question was to see what people wanted or thought that I was hinting at. I never said anything about following the replies to that question, as Buffy would be paired with about fourteen different people. I just thought it would be nice to see what people think. Most likely, no one will get paired up until the sequel, when things are less uncertain and new. I'm not sure yet.

Thank you everyone else who reviewed! That is **Brooklyn**, **Moonjava**, **Lightdemondarkangel**, **Aprilise**,** djeem**,** chicklepea**,** jf**,** NixiNox**,** EE**,** sherbetdip**,** texaswookie**, **Damia- Queen of the Gypsies**,** Lindsey**,** Lanhar**,** Taryn**,** DoubleAgent**,** gabrieldarke**, **Vld**,** Dnic5**,** Just Me**, **Malaika Pyralis**, **Perceval**,** Mistress Saturn1**, **Charmed-Angel4**, **Ice Blue Rose**,** marcus aurelius26**, **Jo**,** Heain**,** Sunflowerlynx**,** CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur**, and **Lorency**.

**Review Please!

* * *

**

"Nothing," Dawn huffed, slamming the book shut, "there's nothing in here!"

Buffy smirked at her younger sister.

"If we could find it in the first book I'd know the world is ending for real," she said.

Dawn thought about that. And in true Dawn-fashion it immediately led her to ask a question.

"What do you call it when the world is supposed to end, but doesn't? Is it like an apoca-wasn't?" she asked.

Xander gave the teenager a look that was almost wise.

"Ah, a question that scholars have pondered for ages," he said in a mock-learned voice, "or normal people who have to read all of the stuff the scholars wrote."

"Actually, most of the people who wrote these books were considered insane," Anya put in helpfully.

"Great, the fate of the world depends on some crazy guy's diary," Xander said.

"The crazy people have helped us before," Willow pointed out.

"Look how well that ended," Buffy said.

They were all assembled in Giles' office, and had been for three hours, now. It was nearing 1 a.m. and Sugar Bear's, a local pastry shop with heavenly desserts, had just delivered the Scooby Gang's necessities in the form of donuts, causing Xander to complain that they could have just ordered donuts the first time around, instead of making him go get them.

"Ow!" Xander cried, rubbing his wrist where Giles had smacked it, preventing him from getting the jelly-filled donut he had had his eye on for the last twenty minutes.

Giles just looked at him.

"You signed away all of your jelly rights," he said primly.

Xander groaned.

"You did, you know," Anya pointed out, "Giles has full ownership of your share of the donuts. He could do anything with them, such as have Buffy sign them and 0sell them on the street to demons who want to feel special."

"Anya, demons hate me," Buffy pointed out, giving the woman an odd look.

"Most of them do," Anya replied, "but there are quite a few of them, like Clem, who don't really want to get eaten by the more vicious types."

"Someone wanted to eat Clem?" Willow questioned, her nose wrinkling.

Anya nodded.

"Well, not all of him, just his stomach, his organs, his brain, his eyes, his pe-,"

Xander clapped a hand over his girlfriend's mouth hastily as everyone fought not to dwell on yet another Anya-manufactured mental picture.

"Not another word," Kennedy said, "not one word."

"Why not?" Anya asked.

"Because I don't want to hear it," Kennedy replied, "Actually, I'll never want to hear anything with the word penis in it unless it involves someone getting kicked there, okay?"

"Well, that's unnatural," Anya pronounced.

"No it's not," both Buffy and Willow said, Willow just looking disgusted and Buffy looking at Dawn who had opened her mouth to agree with Anya.

Or not.

"Um, guys?" Dawn squeaked.

The teenager's skin had turned stark white, and her eyes were opened wide.

"Dawnie?" Buffy asked anxiously.

The others were looking at the Key, too. She looked like she had just seen a ghost.

"Dawn?" Giles voiced his own concerns at Dawn's frightened expression.

In response, the brunette raised one trembling finger and pointed at the window. The Scoobies immediately spun around to see what had Dawn so panicked, and found something pretty damned unsettling.

"Holy Mother of Pizza!" Xander exclaimed.

Cal looked at the strange human curiously. He'd never before heard such an odd expletive. Do all mortals speak so bizarrely, or was it just this one? The prophet mentally shook his head. Now wasn't the time for such musings, he had business with the Slayer.

Speaking of, he could see the original Chosen One subtly shifting into a fighting stance. Now, that wouldn't do at all. After all, Father was counting on him to make sure the Head Slayer got the message, and Calvin didn't like to disappoint his life-giver.

So Calvin Diabl, most feared warrior of his clan, High Priest to the Ancients, and all-around daddy's boy, raised his hand in a gesture of peace and said,

"Don't."

Clearly, the Slayer hadn't been expecting such a powerful and commanding voice, for she stopped in her tracks and stared at Cal in obvious awe. Calvin preened a little. He scared the most feared Slayer in all of history! Wait until Father heard! Not that he hadn't expected to, of course.

Then the Slayer emitted a strange, chortling sound. Interesting. Was this another human defect? Her mouth was stretched upwards, too. Ah, now Cal could see it. Clearly, the Slayer was expressing her tremendous fear of him in some outlandish chant of horror and dread. Within seconds her companions had joined in, also. As he needed them, Cal decided to show them mercy.

"I have important information for you," he began.

This spurred the Slayer and her companions to even louder chants. Now, abject fear was well and good, but their incessant pleas for their lives were starting to become irksome.

"I will not hurt you," Cal said impatiently, "but the Slayer and I have very important things to talk about."

Still the humans' chanting did not stop. Cal decided to get their attention.

"Silence!" he roared, jumping in the air and coming down with a loud thud that made the earth beneath him quake.

The chanting continued and Cal released a sigh. Dealing with these annoying mortals was going to take a while.

Buffy could barely believe what she was seeing. Suddenly, Dawn's fear made sense. This small, two inch tall, light blue, white-clad demon was shrieking around in an annoyingly high voice.

The second it had opened its mouth, Buffy hadn't been able to contain her giggles any longer, and soon no one else had been able to either. Well, everyone but the notable exception of Dawn, who was covering her eyes and trying to keep her mind off of what was in front of her, if the words "Puppies, candy, Orlando Bloom," were to be believed.

Then the little thing jumped up and down, trying to stop the Scoobies from laughing…

While looking exactly like a smurf.

Something Dawn had been scared to death of since she had been three. The teenager had always stubbornly asserted that there was something wrong with Papa Smurf, and that the other smurfs would one day show up to steal everyone's cute shoes. Which explained why she was now trying to hide- and failing- under the coffee table.

"I have to speak to the Slayer!" the little demon squeaked indignantly.

"Oh look, he's so cute!" Willow squealed in a voice high enough to rival Smurfie's.

Buffy rolled her eyes, still laughing.

"Let's just see what Tiny Tim has to tell us," she said.

The little demon shot them an annoyed glare.

"My name is Calvin Diabl, and I am the High Priest to the-," he began.

"_Calvin_? Your name is _Calvin_?" Xander said incredulously.

Anya snorted.

"Calvin happens to be a very popular name, you know. I think it has something to do with those strange little books you're always looking at."

"You read Calvin and Hobbes?" Andrew asked interestedly.

"No," Xander said with conviction.

"I have to converse with the Slayer!" the little Smurf announced loudly.

Well, loudly for him, anyway.

Hearing a Smurfy-looking demon say the word "converse" just made everyone laugh even harder.

Finally losing his patience, and completely exasperated, the little demon finally shouted,

"The Dark Lord Framourac is trying to kill us all!" Cal finally shrieked.

That got their attention.

And then it burst into flames.

Draco looked out at the cold summer night. They were going back to Hogwarts tomorrow, ready for another year of watching over the little brats and making sure none of Voldemort's personal arse kissers took over the school. What joy.

Draco wished someone would just strangle Oldandmold and be done with it. Things would be a lot simpler if they did. Of course, it wasn't like things could ever be that easy. Hell, the Granger affair was proof enough of that. That had been completely unexpected, especially Granger's new attitude. Draco would never have thought the bookworm would turn out like this. Then again, he wouldn't have thought a lot of things that had happened.

Still, everything had been stranger then usual lately. Much stranger. And it had all started with Granger's reappearance and her not-so-happy feelings towards the Order. Not that Draco was sad about that. Quite the contrary, no chance of her shouldering her way back into the Trio now. Still, it was strange, this new Hermione. She unnerved him more then a little bit.

_"Hey," Buffy said easily while her friends were informed about the Order._

_"What do you want?" Draco replied rudely._

_He had been in the corner of the basement meeting room, silently observing all that was taking place with all of the calculation of a Malfoy when the Slayer had chanced to look over and see him. And, of course, being the insufferable little brat that she was, the blonde just had to come over and pester him. _

_Surprisingly, Buffy didn't seem fazed by the rude tone. Instead, a small, sad smile flitted across her lips. _

_"Just checking on you, making sure the resident formerly evil guy is okay," she said lightly._

_But her voice said one thing and her eyes were saying another. Draco shifted under her clear gaze uncomfortably._

_"I was never evil," he told her, "not once, just had some ideas that could have been. I'm good, now. There's no way I'd ever kiss Lord Full of himself's robes."_

_Buffy nodded and smiled that little smile again._

_"Good for you," she said warmly._

_And, once again, the look in the Slayer's eyes disturbed Draco. It seemed like she was seeing through him, in a way that not even Dumbledore could. Like she could see all of the potential hidden inside of Draco, because she wasn't looking at Draco at all. Buffy seemed lost in her own mind for a second, looking at the ghosts of people no longer there, who had once had that same potential. And for a second Draco felt like he, too, could realize all of those secretly hidden dreams, because someone else already had. Just for a second. And that scared Draco more then he would ever admit. _

_Then the faraway look disappeared from Buffy's eyes and she went over to answer her sister's question._

No, something was definitely wrong with Granger. She didn't even seem like Granger, really. The smart little bookworm who Hermione Granger had once been would never have scared Draco like that. He might have been scared of all of the hexes she could put on him, but Draco didn't think that she would have been capable of making him afraid like that. Not even Dumbledore was, and he was Dumbledore for Merlin's sake.

All in all, Draco came to the conclusion that he wanted nothing more then to stay away from MadWoman and her Mental band of friends. Especially the scary, loud blonde. He hadn't thought that anyone could say half the things she had without getting struck down by lightning, and that was saying much, as Draco wasn't exactly religious. Although those crazy Americans could drive a person to anything.

With a small shake of his head Draco cleared his thoughts and got up from the small window seat in his bedroom.

She looked up at the sky and lost herself in it. It was just so large. A big, blank, gray canvas that was everything and nothing all at once. Just like she was. Everything and nothing. All and none. Here but not here. As endless as the cosmos, and just as old at times. Other times she was a newborn fledgling, young and new, like the very first dawn. Everywhere and nowhere. She would be here. Soon.


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Title: Once Upon A Time**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything. At all. If I did, I'd have more money then God and would never have canceled _BtVS_ and _Angel_.

**Summary: **A teenage girl is given an impossible destiny. She's taken away from everything she knows and everyone thinks she's dead. Eight years later, she's back, and in for one hell of a fight.

**Distribution: **Just ask if you want to use this.

**Spoilers: **All of _Buffy_ and _Angel_. Through GoF, and some minor ones from OotP.

**a/n: **Thank you **Jenna Summers**, **Moonjava**, **Allen Pitt**, **Manticore-gurl071134**, **gabrieldarke**, **angel-cordy**, **SunflowerLynx**,** Taryn**, **Perceval**, **Damia- Queen of the Gypsies**, **Vld**, **Etoile Star**, **Heain**, **laffinpebbles**, **IceBlueRose**, **NixiNox**, and **Lossienal**.

I'm sorry about the lack of updates, but I've been really busy. I'm working on a musical, outlining _The Fallen_, a pet project of mine, and thinking of starting a new story in between this one and the sequel (yes, it's definite, there will be a sequel).

Also, anyone who loves _Buffy _should go to some of the best fanfiction ever written. Actually, it's some of the best _anything_ ever written.

**Heain**, is this chapter long enough for you? I trued to make it decent-sized.

Oh, and I have officially shortened my author's notes! Yay me! This is, like, a record for shortness. Don't worry. Every five chapters or so, I'll have _really_ long review replies at the end, and my regular notes at the top.

Now, as some of you might have noticed, the last chapter was pure filler, with slight (very, slight) foreshadowing. So, onto the real thing! And remember- Reviews make me update faster, so….

**Please Review!

* * *

**

_What are they thinking?_ Xander wondered.

He hadn't thought about it until now, but now that the question had entered his mind, Xander found himself speculating.

What must they feel every time they saw Buffy? She _had_ been their friend, from what he could gather. From the way that Harry guy had acted, the Buffster had been a _very _good friend of theirs. Did they wonder what could have happened if the Watcher's Council hadn't been such a bunch of pricks? Did they feel as horribly as he would have, if the circumstances had been different? Did they know how much Buffy had done for everyone? Did they know what a great person she was? How much better she had made everyone around her?

In fact, Xander didn't think the Old Lifers- how he'd mentally labeled them- actually knew much about Buffy at all.

And so Xander had to wonder how he would feel if someone had stolen Buffy away from them instead.

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The Scooby Gang was having their daily meeting. This time, it was official, as they were the Board of Directors for the Watcher's Council. And right now, they were debating a very personal topic without Buffy.

"I don't see why we can't just tell Buffy that we have to keep an eye on these wizard people. So what if she used to be one of them? They have an evil type and she's the Slayer." Anya stated stubbornly.

Giles took off his glasses and began to clean them.

"Anya, this is a very delicate matter. Buffy may not want to be around these people," He explained patiently, "And given your latest vision, it would be a good idea to monitor them, along with anyone else of interest. We just have to explain this to Buffy in a way which won't…" he trailed off.

"End up with the Buffy having an Ah-nold phase?" Dawn filled in helpfully.

"For lack of a better phrase, yes," Giles agreed.

"Giles, we know Buffy," Willow pointed out, "She's either going to go all wiggy on us, or she'll be fine, calm, rational-Buffy."

"Rational-Buffy?" Xander looked at Willow incredulously. "There is no such thing as a rational Scooby. The very concept boggles the mind. My brain is all boggled now."

Giles and Kennedy both rolled their eyes at that.

"Rational Buffy," Andrew repeated, "That sounds like it should be in a comic book. Rational Buffy- she uses her cool intellect and sharp powers of-."

"Shut up, Andrew," Everyone else said.

Andrew quieted.

"Xander's small mind notwithstanding, I think we should simply ask her what she wants to do," Giles stated.

"But we still need to keep an eye on these guys," Kennedy objected, "We can't just let Buffy's feelings get in the way of watching some potential bad guys."

"That's not what we're saying," Dawn objected.

"Sounds like it to me," Kennedy countered.

Dawn opened her mouth to retort, but was cut off by the arrival of their conversation- Buffy.

"Hey guys, what's up?" Buffy asked, dropping into a seat. "Anything Slay-worthy, yet?"

Giles cleared his throat.

"Actually, yes," he began.

Buffy looked slightly alarmed.

"You know, I was kind of kidding. I mean, was there a jinx involved? Did I jinx us? Was there a jinx-y thing involved?" she asked quickly.

Giles shook his head, a small smile appearing on his face. After all these years, his surrogate-daughter's train of thought never ceased to amuse him.

"Perhaps I should rephrase. This group of people you were involved with- the Order of the Phoenix- might potentially be dangerous. After all, they seemed to have omitted a few things in their first meeting with us. And with the prophecy, it might be prudent to-,"

Buffy interrupted him.

"I get it," she said calmly, "We're going to go visit Jedi Grandfather's house."

Most uncharacteristically, the Slayer didn't seem to be at all phased by what she had just said. Given her past history with the wizards in question, the other Scoobies were surprised, to say the least.

"Will, get the mojo going," Xander ordered.

Willow nodded while Buffy looked mystified.

"Giles, can you call Emily and have her send me the ingredients I need for the katra?" Willow asked.

Giles nodded and reached for the phone.

"What are you guys talking about?" Buffy demanded.

"We're getting Buffy back," Xander, Anya, Willow, Dawn, and Giles said simultaneously.

"Huh?" Buffy looked like she was sincerely questioning her friends' sanity. "_I'm_ Buffy. Me, Buffy. Buffy is me."

"No you're not," Anya told her, matter-of-factly, "You are a strangely understanding person who has stolen Buffy's body."

"What she said," Xander said, nodding sagely.

"And you're probably a very hairy man with a small penis who wants to use Buffy's body to have sex." The ex-demon continued.

Xander's nodding stopped abruptly.

"Oh! That's like Episode 19 of…" Andrew trailed off at the looks that he received. "I'm shutting up now."

"What?" Buffy asked, now looking like she had finished questioning her friends' sanity and was now trying to remember the number of the nearest mental hospital.

"Well, obviously you're not Buffy." Anya said reasonably.

Willow was the one nodding, now.

"Yeah, you're like the not-Buffy. You're NotBuffy." She said enthusiastically.

"Is there a demon?" Buffy asked cautiously. "A possess-y, mind-screwy demon?"

"No, you're just a body-jacker," Dawn said.

"Okay, then. I knew I shouldn't have said the jinx-y thing," Buffy said to herself.

To the others, she said,

"What's with the sudden rain of doubt?"

"You agreed. You were calm, rational, NotBuffy," Willow explained.

"That's where you slipped up," Xander added, sounding wise, "It gets 'em every time. Most evil types wouldn't think that the Slayer was so violent."

"Hey! I'm not violent!" Buffy protested. "And I'm not an evil, Big Bad wanna-be."

Giles snorted.

"Prove it," Dawn countered.

Buffy smiled as she walked to the door.

"I heard you all talking a few minutes ago," she said, "Meet me at their Headquarters at one?"

She smiled sweetly and walked out of the door, leaving seven slack-jawed Scoobies in her wake.

"I take my words back," Willow said at last, "Words, come here. That was _so_ evil enough to be Buffy."

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Harry looked at the reports dismally. Death Eater attacks were still at a standstill, something that should have been good, but wasn't, as there was no apparent cause. What was going on?

He couldn't figure it out. Normally, there were at least ten attacks a night, just for the "pleasure" of Voldemort's close advisors. But, now there was nothing, and that worried him. If there was no activity whatsoever, it meant that Voldemort was gathering his forces. Possibly to launch a fall offensive, maybe for some dastardly plan to wipe out Hogwarts. Either way, it was bad. And Harry didn't think they would be able to withstand many more attacks.

Up until this point, witches and wizards had been dying left and right. Some of those who were left had taken to staying safely within their homes, piling Protection Charm upon Protection Charm upon their houses, in a vain attempt to keep safe. Most of the remaining wizards had gone back to Hogwarts, where Dumbledore had opened the school as a refuge, just as he had said he would at the end of Fourth Year. They were put to work as members of security groups led by Phoenixes (the nickname for members of the not-so-secret organization).

If Voldemort rallied his troops behind him, and got reinforcements somewhere, there wouldn't be enough witches and wizards left to fight for long. Which meant that the Order was going to need help.

But where to find it?

The answer popped into Harry's mind instantly. _Hermione._ Of course, she would be the perfect person to ask for help. After all, he'd seen the resources she and the Snoopies had at their disposal- a whole building full of willing workers. Besides, Harry knew that she would never allow Voldemort to take over Hogwarts, no matter how much had changed.

So there it was, Harry had an idea, and now all that he could do was hope that Hermione would stop by soon, because they had to leave for Hogwarts in exactly six hours and fifty-five minutes.

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Buffy knocked on the door of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, briefly reflecting on the last time she had been there, less than twenty-four hours ago. There had been very little knocking involved then. She wondered if she could just sneak in.

Now that she actually knew who lived here, Buffy was feeling kind of… anxious. This time, she would be facing her old friends without the nifty little distraction posed by imminent death, and this time, Giles wouldn't be on hand to keep the guys occupied. And Harry and Ron would definitely want to talk to her.

It was funny, in a sick and twisted kind of way, that after all of these years her life would make a 360 and she'd end up here. Here. In England. With Voldemort as the biggest bad there was. And witches. And wizards. And magic. And Weasleys. And Dumbledore. And, most importantly, Harry and Ron.

A long time ago, Harry Potter had created a sense of awe in her. Then came that ridiculous affair with a troll whose head she could now crack open, and Harry Potter had become her friend. And with her new friend had come another- Ron Weasley. Once upon a time her world had revolved around them, and she had longed to be known as something more then The Brains of the Operation, or the Know-It-All, or Harry Potter's Other Friend. Back then, she had never thought that, one day, people would actually see her as a leader. Or how much she would wish that they didn't.

Harry had seemed so brave and heroic, seeking out the answers to every problem that came his way. But, now, Buffy knew the truth. Harry hadn't been heroic- although he certainly was brave at times- he had simply done what he'd needed to survive.

Then the door opened and the thoughts flew out of Buffy's head.

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Remus Lupin hadn't been expecting his former prize pupil to be standing on the doorstep when he went to answer the rather…persistent… knocking. Actually, he had been expecting Tonks, along with the latest news of how the preparations for the new year were going at Hogwarts. So when he was faced with a pint-sized blonde and her mostly American cohorts, he wasn't quite sure what to say.

Thankfully, Tonks showed up about three minutes after he opened the door, and he finally remembered he was supposed to invite them in.

"Er, come in please," he blurted out.

As the- what did they call themselves? Snoopies? Swoops? Shoopies? Shoppies? Smoppies? Shooties? Ah, yes, that was it, Shooties. As the Shooties filed passed him to enter the house, he couldn't help but wonder why they had come. Surely they must have noticed what an uproar they had caused in the house. Tonks came in last, and she shot him a small wink.

"This might be something good, you old bat," she whispered to him.

Remus smirked slightly. Good old Tonks, making sure to reference his age at every possible opportunity.

"So, where is everyone?" Xander asked, looking around.

"Yeah, this place was pretty packed yesterday," Willow agreed.

Remus raised an eyebrow at that.

"Well, we _have_ disposed of the bodies, you know," he pointed out.

"Bodies?" Xander repeated blankly.

Then it clicked.

"Oh, you mean the demons," he said.

Giles snorted.

"Yes, Xander, the demons," he said amusedly.

Next to Tonks, Remus' eyes were dancing.

"Well, he could've meant the other wizard people. After all, it could be taken that way, if by "the bodies" he meant the-," Anya was interrupted by Xander nudging her leg with his foot.

"Xander, you said we're not supposed to have sex in front of other people," Anya said confusedly.

Xander turned red and began to mumble indistinctly. Anya leaned a little closer to him to hear what he was saying.

"Well why were you rubbing my leg, then?" she asked exasperatedly.

"To stop you from calling the old guy a serial killer," Xander snapped hurriedly.

Anya's eyes narrowed at his tone. Giles quickly stopped an oncoming argument by asking Remus, who was quietly laughing, where Dumbledore was.

"He's downstairs, repairing the wards, in the room you were in yesterday," Remus replied.

Giles nodded and went down to the basement to speak with the Headmaster.

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While all of this had been going on, Buffy had been poking around the rooms.

The dull sounds of her friends' conversation followed her through the house as she went exploring. Were Harry and Ron here?

It was strange to think that once upon a time she would have known exactly where the two wizards were, and what they were doing.

She still felt it hard to believe how quickly things could change.

First, she had gone from a normal girl to a witch with a flap of wings.

Then, she had gone from normal witch to Potential Slayer in the blink of a Watcher's eye.

In that same amount of time she had gone from English to American.

She had gone from Potential to Slayer within one Slayer's last heartbeat.

From the Slayer to a Slayer with her own death.

From a Slayer to Lead Slayer with the swing of a scythe.

But could she finally go half way? Could she both Scooby and Phoenix? Could she have more then one group of friends?

Most importantly, did she want to?

She felt someone else enter the room. Heard their soft footsteps behind her; the light sound of their breathing. Could smell the light shift in the air that signified someone else's presence. No matter how clean a person was, there was a slight natural smell to them- their scent. A long time ago, she had been grossed out when Angel had tried to explain that to her. Now, her senses were sharper; everything was brighter; bolder; more distinct. It was like she was more alive, yet strangely detached.

The scent was familiar, from a time when she hadn't dreamed of the constant exhilaration she felt now. The distinct hum of power; of strength. It was always there, in the back of her mind, the power to affect change. To create things. And to destroy.

"Hey, Harry," Buffy said casually.

Harry looked surprised, though Buffy didn't know that. She still hadn't turned around.

"Er, hey 'Mione," he managed to get out.

At this, Buffy did turn around.

"It's Buffy," she said firmly.

"No, it's not," Harry said exasperatedly, "It was never Buffy. You are Hermione. Hermione is you. Why do you keep saying that it's not true?"

Buffy raised an eyebrow.

"Because it isn't," she asserted.

"Yes it is. You were born Hermione Granger, you'll die Hermione Granger. It's who you are," Harry shot at her.

"I think you'll find that I've already died as Buffy Summers. Twice, in fact. Which definitely beats my One-Death-Only record as Hermione. Buffy is me. I am Buffy. And Hermione isn't real. Not anymore," she said coolly.

This, at least, was expected. Buffy had known that Harry would try to "reason" with her the moment she had overheard her friends' plans to visit here. Which was why she knew they had to come.

They had the chance to do something good. All of them. Even Snape. If they got rid of Lord Tries Too Hard, they could save people. That was good. Very good. But Harry had to understand that. Buffy knew that he was going to ask for help- she had seen the news every day, she knew about the "unexplained disappearances" and "unsolved case" that showed up every day. There was no way the Order- what a stupid name! - could keep this up much longer.

Buffy also knew that the only way they would get anything done was if they pushed their feelings to the curb for a little while. So far, the only thing anyone had done was exclaim over her so-called "death". Yeah, that was really hard to do. Harry and the others just had to be distracted from her return. Generally, those wacky take-over-the-world types tended to do that. Unfortunately, the Order- she'd never get over Dawn asking if they, too, worshipped Joaquin- weren't exactly the Let's Do Stuff Fast club. In fact, they were more along the lines of the Our Leader's Lived Really Long, and Will Live A Lot Longer, So We Have All the Time In the World club.

"Then, I guess Hermione's friendship with me and Ron isn't real, either," Harry said.

Buffy's eyes softened.

"Nope, that's still real. You can't put a name on things like that. I should know. Would I stop being friends with Giles because he got stuck with the name Rupert?" she asked with a hopeful smile.

Harry snorted, accepting the move to more light-hearted things.

"Like you should talk. First Hermione, then _Buffy_? What kind of name is Buffy?" he mocked lightly.

"Mine," Buffy said defensively.

"At least it wasn't Joan," a laughing voice interrupted from the doorway.

Xander smirked at Buffy, who groaned, while Harry looked curious.

"Joan?" Harry asked.

"I'm never going to live that down, am I?" Buffy asked Xander, ignoring Harry's question.

Xander grinned at her.

"Sure ya will," he replied, "Right after we forget about Randy Giles."

"So my appointment is on the Twelfth of Never?" Buffy asked.

"Don't be late," Xander warned seriously, "Dr. Embarrassless is only taking on such a difficult case cause you saved his ass a bunch of times."

"Oh thank you! Thank you!" Buffy said sarcastically, imitating a grateful damsel in some cheesy 50's flick.

Xander tipped his imaginary hat to her.

"All in a day's work, Very Little Lady," he said, in a bad faux-John Wayne style accent.

Buffy punched him in the arm, while Harry looked at the two of them, bewildered.

"Ow!" Xander said, massaging his arm.

"You so deserved that," Buffy said complacently. To Harry, she said, "Come on, I think this afternoon's train full of crazies has moved on, judging by Wannabe Boy Wonder's show-stopping performance for us."

"Alex, we have a winner," Xander announced.

"Where are they?" Buffy asked him.

"Down in the basement with the G-man and the Almost Other G-man," Xander responded as the trio walked out the door.

"Almost G-man?" Buffy and Harry asked simultaneously.

"The Almost Gandalf," Xander explained.

"Oh," Buffy said.

Harry didn't get it, and said as much.

Unfortunately, Harry's question of "Who is Gandalf?" was posed as they reached the basement- and The Andrew Zone.

"Oh, Gandalf is like the most under-rated character in Tolkien's magnum opus. That's masterpiece, in Layawaymen's terms," Andrew began his babble.

Every Scooby within a fifty foot radius groaned. Loudly.

"Shut up, Andrew!"

Dumbledore looked on amusedly. They truly were a very strange group of people.

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Giles answered his phone quickly, noticing the curious glances many of the witches and wizards gave it.

"Hello? Rupert Giles speaking," he said.

"Rupert, it's Althenea. We have a bit of a problem," the witch told him quickly.

Giles was instantly alarmed. As a general rule, the Coven members tended to avoid modern communication. In fact, the only time he remembered them contacting anyone with a phone was when they were locating Potentials to keep them safe from the First. And Althenea rarely, if ever, got that particular tone of voice. It was just screaming "I'm worried!". Althenea spent her days teaching herself and others the importance of serenity and balance, for God's sake, she did not get worked up.

With all of this in mind, Giles hurriedly asked her, "What is it?"

"There's news of an energy force gathering. Up until now it hasn't been large enough for us to gauge whether or not it is on our side. But we got a call last night from a contact in Bordeaux. She's powerful, almost as much as Willow. And she has also gotten a lock on it. What she's seen is not good. Quite the contrary, actually. And something- the Goddess only knows what- has targeted her because of that. We need to get her here. Can you send in some of the Slayers?" Althenea asked, again sounding uncharacteristically agitated, yet despite that, Giles thought he detected a slight- very slight- hint of pride in her tone, though he couldn't begin to fathom why it was there.

"No," Giles said, "Most of them are on a rather _delicate _assignment. However, I can send one in."

Althenea gave a little relieved sigh, sensing, as always, what he was thinking.

"Your girl?" she asked.

Giles nodded, although she couldn't see it, being half a country away.

"Yes," he confirmed, "What do you need us to do?"

The Wiccan gave him instructions and bid him farewell before hanging her phone up. Giles did the same a moment later.

He looked up at "his" children.

"Well, it seems we have to leave," he said, sounding much more casual then he felt.

The Scoobies- why had Xander dubbed them that? - were all on instant alert. Only in the case of "his girl" as Althenea had put it, she looked ready for a good fight, as did Kennedy, the ages old bloodlust filling their senses again.

And Giles had a feeling that they would get that fight.

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Albus could barely contain his curiosity about the abrupt departure of the Americans and pseudo-Americans. They were such an interesting little bunch of people, although he certainly would never have expected Hermione to come to be as loyal to them as she evidently was. Well, to be honest, he wouldn't have predicted any of this, but he was quickly seeing that it just might have turned out for the best.

Then Alastor Apparated into the room, his eyes- both of them- wide and fearful, his expression that of someone who had just found out the sky was purple and pigs really could fly.

Dumbledore stared at him concernedly. When was the last time Alastor had been scared of anything? He leaned forward in his seat, causing his beard to drag on the floor.

"Alastor, what is it?" he asked his old friend.

Every other "Phoenix" as they were called in the room had their eyes fixed on Moody, uneasily anticipating the once-feared, still awe-worthy ex-Auror's answer.

"The girl is here," he gasped.

Dumbledore's eyes widened behind his half-moon spectacles. The younger Phoenixes didn't understand what Alastor meant, but the few older members in the room immediately gasped and began to panic, causing the younger one's to look about anxiously and demand answers.

Dumbledore swept out of the room, leaving it to Remus to answer the burning questions. He had much more important concerns to deal with right now. Much more important, and very grave concerns to deal with, indeed.

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Alisandra Gregorovitch looked around the airport exasperatedly. Why the hell wasn't anyone there to pick her up? She was _sure _that a guard was supposed to have been sent for her. There was no other way she would have chanced something like this. Where could they be?

Damn it, she couldn't stay out here much longer. It was too exposed. Out of the corner of her eye, Alisandra saw a quick gleam of silver. Immediately, her mental alarms began to go off. Uh-oh.

Looking as unobtrusive as she possibly could, Sandra wove her way through the crowd of people milling about the terminal. Keep your pace measured. Look like you have a purpose. Don't let them know you've seen them. That was what she had been told to do in case of an attack. Stay in a crowded place. Don't leave public view. If you are alone, you are dead. No matter what, don't get killed.

Normally, Alisandra hated rules, but right now, she was all for them. Staying alive was very high up on her list of priorities, and she wasn't thinking about that ridiculous disco song the British had cooked up, either.

Unfortunately, she could still sense the men following her, and even worse, she could feel the malicious intent rolling off of their auras like lies off of a tramp's tongue. This was so not good. Involuntarily, her pace quickened as she tried to find the gift shop. Or one of those crowded little rooms that passed for airport restaurants. Or even a freaking bathroom. Anything to ensure her survival.

But, no, luck, and family karma, was against her. It hated her. The universe had it out for her. That was the only explanation for her life. Someone in the ever mysterious "Up There" (in capitals, no less, so you really should see the gravity of her unfortunate situation) hated Alisandra for no apparent reason, and consequently wanted her dead. Alisandra hadn't done anything to deserve it. Nothing at all. Why, she hadn't ever done anything bad in her life. Well, except for one little teeny tiny thing. Or two. Possibly three. Four? Okay, Alisandra mentally reviewed her last (and very mental, both literally and figuratively speaking) statement. She might possibly have done a few bad things. Broken a few minor rules. But, really, was that enough to make the world decide to hate you? No. Or if it was, things these days were even more screwed up then she'd thought.

Of course, she hadn't actually seen nearly enough of "the world these days" to make an accurate judgment, but still, every girl was entitled to occasional bouts of exaggeration, right? It was practically a law.

Oh shit, they were gaining on her. Oh, this was not good. Not good at all. She didn't want to die. She was way too good looking to die. Hell, she was going to die an eighteen year old virgin! How pathetic was that! And all because she had the crappiest parents in the world. She'd never met either one of them, but her mother had sent her to live in a different freaking country. How unfair was that? And it wasn't even in a normal part of the country, no, she had to live with a bunch of stupid old bats dedicated to the Goddess.

Now, Alisandra loved the Craft, how could she not? It was what she had been raised on, after all. But, she had always longed for a life like the people on the television had. Adventurous, exciting, and wonderful. They never seemed to do anything twice, while her own life was nothing but order and constancy. She had been taught that change was to be embraced and nurtured. That difference and new things were part of nature, and that they helped to ensure the continued cycle of life, death, and the world's ever flowing stream of originality.

So why couldn't that change enter her own life? It really was a silly question for Alisandra to ask herself at that particular point in time, considering her position, since she was currently being chased by some evil crazies who wanted to kill her. Still, even that was expected. Next, either the crazies catch up to and kill her, or a bunch of her fellow Wiccans create a glamour, stop time, move everyone in the airport to a pocket dimension, or just plain transfigure her pursuers so that Alisandra could escape.

Or not.

A small blonde suddenly appeared in her path, forcing Alisandra to either stop running- and by now, she was running- or risk knocking the petite woman to the floor.

"Hi there, I'm Buffy and I'll be your Slayer-y Bodyguard for today," the woman- Buffy- said in a cheerful and clearly American voice.

Alisandra blinked as Buffy- a small, blonde, stylishly dressed, American Slayer- sidestepped her and calmly walked up to her would-be attackers.

"Now, boys, you know you're supposed to play nice, right?" she asked, smiling sweetly at the one nearest her.

He just stared at her incredulously while Alisandra wondered what the hell this midget thought she was doing. Then it clicked, and the name registered in her mind. Buffy. As in Buffy Summers. Formerly The Slayer, now head of the Slayer Half of the Watcher's Council, part of the Council's Board of Directors, the girl who was rumored to have faced a hell goddess, the First, the Master, Angelus, and the Ascension of some demon or the other into a pure demon. The faintest of whispers that Alisandra had heard about this Slayer were all quite ridiculous. Marie, one of her few fellow Wiccas who was actually around the same age as Alisandra, had actually thought that this little blonde fashionista had sunk the Hellmouth in Sunnydale. Ha! Like that could happen. Everyone knew Hellmouthes were indestructible. And the little Slayer That Could clearly wasn't powerful enough or old enough to have faced half of the things people said she had.

The… well, whoever was trying to attack her, Alisandra decided to call them the Morons… So, the Morons clearly must have believed the rumors about Miss Stake For Brains, since they were all slowly backing away from her. She smiled a confident little smile that had Predator! written all over it. For a second, Alisandra would have believed the rumors, too. BubbleBrat looked scary. Like she was just itching for a fight because she knew she would win.

Pfft, as if. Slayers weren't powerful, just unnaturally strong. There was no way Brainless Buffy would be able to out-power and out-smart a bunch of wizards, warlocks, or whatever the hell they were. After all, people only sent the best to try to kill Alisandra Gregorovitch, as she would proudly tell you. But there was your average, run-of-the-mill, "superior", cocky Slayer. Always thinking with their fists, just like she had read. Really, you'd think that they would be more resourceful then that. But, then again, the way that Boffy, Biffy, Buffy, whatever her name was, girl thought was enough to explain why they had all used to die so quickly.

So, naturally, Alisandra was surprised when the Morons all turned tail and ran away as fast as they could, pushing and shoving people out of the way. And then, of all the nerve that girl had, Buffy actually pouted and whined to no one in particular,

"Aw, why'd Giles have to say no leaving the kid?"

Now, Alisandra just couldn't stand for that. She was no kid. She was an _adult_. Ugh, this stupid Barbie was her guard?

The world hated her.

It really really did.

* * *

What'd you guys think? I want to hear what everyone thinks about Alisandra. 


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Title: Once Upon A Time**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything. At all. If I did, I'd have more money then God and would never have canceled _BtVS_ and _Angel_.

**Summary: **A teenage girl is given an impossible destiny. She's taken away from everything she knows and everyone thinks she's dead. Eight years later, she's back, and in for one hell of a fight.

**Distribution: **Just ask if you want to use this.

**Spoilers: **All of _Buffy_ and _Angel_. Through GoF, and some minor ones from OotP, and even smaller ones from HBP.

**a/n: **Thank you **Moonjava**, **Lorien's Lady**, **Moony'sMate**, **Jenna Summers**, **marcus aure1ius**, **Heain**, **perceval**, **Tanydwr**, **NixiNox**, **manticore-gurl071134**, **Vld**, **Allen Pitt**, **sparky24**, **Kat Hawkins**, **chicklepea**, **angel-cordy**, **AnimeHanyou39**, **gabrieldarke**, **clcountry**, **ozma914**, **DramaQueen4eva**, **VaMpEdChiK, **and **goddessa39 **for reviewing. All of you are super awesome! Wow- that sounded really stupid, didn't it?

To **coffee**, do you mind not using my story as your own personal message board? I did _not _flame you, it was advice that I hope you take. You really must be incredibly rude to just write something like that. If you had taken the time to read more then the Prologue, you might have noticed that the whole story isn't written like that, just the first chapter, and that the first chapter was deliberately written that way for effect.

**Dutchgirl- **thank you. I've got to agree with you on that.

**JenniferS1- **Thank you. I don't want to turn Alisandra into a Mary Sue, which means you can rest assured. As you'll soon read, not everyone will like her- in fact, most people will dislike her. I figured she would have an attitude quite a bit like a mixture of a _Buffy_-version of Cordelia (minus the funny) and Harmony.

I **_really _**have to recommend **clcountry**'s _Merging With the Traffic_. It's funny, occasionally sad, and chock full o' Cordy. It's also really well-written, and actually achieves the (rather monumental) feat of making you hate Wesley (the younger version, who really does seem to have acted like Percy).

**Ozma914**'s _Xander's Job_ is a great read, too. It's also got a healthy dose of Cordelia, but it includes Tara, Buffy, Angel, Xander, Willow, Kennedy, and just about every other Scooby.

I'm surprised no one picked up on the few little hints all through the last chapter about Alisandra. Also, I wonder if anyone noticed any foreshadowing on the possible pairings front. No, none of them involve Buffy. So, whoever can figure out one of the more obvious tidbits about Alisandra or the pairings before I post Chapter Fourteen gets a cookie. Here's another hint: think back, oh, five years for one of the answers.

And if anyone guesses what's been hinted at in this chapter, you get _two_ cookies.

Bonus points to everyone who knows where I got the school's name.

The 12 step program will be making a comeback in (the much longer) Chapter Fourteen, too, since this is just a bit of filler to make up for not being able to update. Unfortunately, I couldn't log-in to my account for a while, and I'm still on vacation, which means update are going to be slow until school starts up again and my friend start hounding me for more. This chapter is going to be continued from where I left off at the end in Chapter Fourteen. Think of this as the first half of a two parted super-chapter. Okay? Good.

Now, remember, if you review, I update. So, the more reviews I get, the happier I will be, and the happier I am, the faster I update. And, I'm assuming if you review you'll be happy if I update, and happy reviewers want to review more. See the pattern here? Review. Make me happy. Make you happy. Make everyone happy. If you review, you'll help further world peace, one hotheaded author at a time.

**Please review!

* * *

**

Everything was so dark.

Chaos.

Things weren't as they should be.

The balance was realigning.

Soon, the world will change.

_Soon._

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_The Coven in France_

_Twenty miles outside Bordeaux _

Delphina grumbled to herself as she brushed her hair in front of the mirror. Alisandra _always_ got everything she wanted, because _Alisandra_ was beautiful, powerful, and smart. No one had ever noticed Delphina with Alisandra around. Delphina was just "Alisandra's roomie" or "that girl who lives with Ali". Now, Alisandra got to go to England, too. Life just wasn't fair.

Delphina had always wanted to go to England and see the country. It sounded _so_ glamorous, almost as much as New York did. But Alisandra got to go there first. Alisandra had always gotten to do everything first. Why, she'd even been in this room first, being a whole seven months older. Both girls had shared the room since they'd been born.

Alisandra had always been the star of the coven. She had been bright and beautiful; able to do a spell the moment she set eyes on it. For her part, Delphina had never been good with magic- especially healing spells. Those were the hardest.

Delphina had never been as dreadfully perfect as Alisandra, whom everyone had always seemed to like. In fact, Delphina strongly suspected that she was the only person on Earth who wasn't completely entranced by her. And oh, wasn't it hard? The two roommates had been raised so closely they might as well have been sisters. Well, if sisters loathed each other, anyway.

"Delphina, the class is meeting out in the courtyard," Cyrille, a girl just a year older then Delphina, shouted into the room as she made her way to their class with Madam D'Aubigne.

Delphina put down her brush with a small glance at the wholly unsatisfying reflection in the mirror and left her room.

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_Room Number 311_

_The Phoenix Dorm _

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

_Somewhere in Northern Scotland_

Harry and Ron shifted in front of the mirror nervously.

"Why are we making such a big fuss about this?" Ron asked, straightening his collar.

"Because we want to make a good impression," Harry replied, trying to get the cuffs of his robes to lie flat.

"Harry, she's seen us eat, I don't think there's any chance of a good impression left," Ron laughed.

The dark-haired wizard rolled his eyes.

"You know why we're doing this, so don't be a prat," he said.

"I still think we should just get her presents," Ron responded.

"But what would we get her?" Harry snorted, "She doesn't exactly seem like the bookworm type any more."

"Perfume? Robes? Candy?" Ron suggested, "Something that says "We're sorry we were prats and we want to get to know you better?""

"Well, she _did_ always love that fudge from Honeydukes," Harry began.

"And they _did_ just come out with that new Super Fudge Pack," Ron said slowly.

"And it wouldn't hurt to have her happy and axe-free, would it?" Harry asked with a slow grin.

"Not at all, Harry, not at all," Ron agreed, eyes twinkling, as they left for Hogsmeade.

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_Apt. 201_

_1421 Shipley Terrace _

_London, England_

Buffy paced around nervously and looked at the clock sitting on the kitchen counter for the sixteenth time. Where were they? They were supposed to have arrived twenty minutes ago. The Slayer rolled her eyes. Harry and Ron had probably been sidetracked at some crazy Quidditch store or something equally insane. She smiled softly as she remembered the times at Diagon Alley and in Hogsmeade, when Harry and Ron had kept trying to drag her into Quality Quidditch Supplies for "just ten minutes, 'Mione".

She spun around as two loud pops sounded behind her.

"What took you two so… long? What's all that stuff?" she said, surprised, as Harry and Ron came into view, arms full of "stuff".

"Uh, we got you presents," Ron explained, waiting for her reaction.

"And the only reason the fudge is fat-free was because the lady at Honeydukes said we should never buy a girl something calorie-covered and expect her to eat it," Harry added on hurriedly, remembering an unfortunate misunderstanding with Cho Chang in his Fifth Year.

Buffy spied a card dangling from one of the fudge boxes in Ron's hand and tugged it off lightly.

"'We're_ sorry we were prats and we want to get to know you better_'" she read with a laugh, "Well, I guess that's Step Number Two, then."

"Step Two?" Harry questioned blankly.

Buffy nodded.

"It's all part of my Twelve Steps To Fixing Friendships Program," she informed them, "Step Number One was _Don't Kill Each Other_. Step Number Two is say "I'm sorry I was a prat and I want to get to know you better."

Ron looked at her like she was mental.

"And what's Step Three?" he asked.

"Not sure yet," Buffy replied brightly, "I think that there's going to be much drunken fun involved, though."

"Drunken fun?" her two companions echoed blankly.

"Duh," the blonde rolled her eyes as if this should have been obvious, "And then we all make with the wild orgy-ing and I get to find out if anyone's a stevedore in bed."

Harry and Ron exchanged bewildered looks as Buffy continued on.

"I still don't know what a stevedore is," she remarked, "Do you think it's something good?"

Surprisingly, Ron was the one to find his voice first.

"Er, you're not serious about this are you?" he asked her.

Buffy laughed.

"God, no," she said, "well, except for the stevedore part. The point is, I got you guys out of the apartment and on our way to the best place on earth."

Sure enough, the presents had "mysteriously" been left behind in the loft and Harry and Ron were now walking on either side of Buffy.

"The best place on Earth?" Harry repeated. "And where is that?"

"You'll see," Buffy replied vaguely.

Twenty minutes later, all three of them were standing outside a medium-sized store with the words, "The Cookie Palace," written in curly letters on the front.

""The Cookie Palace"," Ron read. "What the bloody hell is this?"

"Heaven," Buffy answered. "Or close enough, and I should know- what with the having been there and all. Come on."

Harry looked at her curiously, but refrained from commenting and followed the other two in.

Once inside, he saw that the store wasn't a store at all. Or it didn't look like one. The whole place was very bright and colorful and there was a long counter in the front where a blue-shirted woman smiled and asked them,

"Welcome to the Cookie Palace, can I interest you in a room?"

_A room?_ Harry wondered. _What is this, some kind of motel?_

He traded startled glances with Ron, who mouthed the word _room?_ to him, but Buffy ignored them both, even though she had obviously seen them.

"No thanks," she said instead, "We've already got one. Um, the name's Buffy. I made an appointment? You know, I was the person who made with the ramblyness and babble last night?"

The woman smiled.

"Oh, yes, I remember you. Wait just a moment while I call someone to take you down." She said.

They stood there for a few seconds until another, brunette, smiling woman came out of the long hall behind the desk and said,

"I'm Molly, and I'll be your Cookier for today, follow me please."

"Cookier?" Harry and Ron both repeated as the quartet walked down the hall.

"Cookier," Molly nodded, "I'll be your cookie cooker, get it?"

Buffy snorted lightly.

"And here I thought our puns were bad," she muttered.

"They are," Harry assured her.

"Ha ha," Buffy said.

Molly took a key out and opened one of the doors scattered along the hall. The two wizards blinked as they stepped inside and looked around at the large, white industrial Muggle kitchen.

"Weird," Ron breathed.

Buffy snorted, remembering just how incredulous the redhead had been of Muggle technology.

"Here at the Cookie Palace we offer full-range, state of the art kitchens fully equipped with all of the ingredients necessary to make any type of Crazy Cookie you'd like," the self-admitted "Cookier" informed them, reciting with a robotically perky voice.

"If you have any questions, just press this little button, and I'll be right over." The possibly inhuman woman finished before leaving.

"Right then," Ron asked, turning to Buffy, "I'm going to ask again. What the bloody hell is this place?"

"It's a cookie factory," the Slayer replied happily.

Harry looked at her.

"Er, Her- Buffy," he corrected himself hastily, "None of us actually know how to cook, do we?"

"Nope, but me and Dawnie found this place a little while ago and I figured we just _have _to check it out since there's been much of the birthday party hintage going on."

"Oh," her companions said.

"Besides," Buffy continued, "We get to eat all of the "ingredients necessary to eat any type of Crazy Cookie I'd like"."

Ron perked up at this, and the two wizards went over to join the blonde where she was standing at the counter, flipping through a plastic three-ring binder.

"What's that?" Harry asked.

"It's a cookie catalogue," Ron answered, reading the heading of the front page. "Blimey, these nutters really love their biscuits, don't they?"

"So do you," Buffy laughed. "God, unless I have Old-Timers, you _inhale _your food instead of chewing it."

Harry laughed as the newly dubbed "Food Inhaler" blushed.

"Ooh, look, a Snow Cookie," Buffy said, "Let's try those."

The trio studied the picture of the "Snow Cookie" intently. It looked like a miniature snow man, with round cookie balls for the body, twisty red candy bits for the arms, M&M minis for the buttons, eyes, and mouth, and a piece of orange frosted cookie for the nose.

"We're supposed to make that?" Ron asked dubiously. "Is there a spell?"

"Nope," Buffy said, using her own version of the "Resolve Face". "No-magic. We're gonna bake this thing the normal way."

"Which is…" Harry trailed off.

"Like this," Buffy said importantly.

She turned around and faced the counter, on which small bowls of ingredients were arranged. Harry and Ron looked on expectantly.

"Um, what do I do?" she asked uncertainly.

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Rupert Giles was _not _having a good day.

First, the Head of Operations in Sydney had phoned in to say there were "complications" involving the arrival of several new Slayers. What exactly those mysterious "complications" were, he didn't want to say. However, the Slayer would be expected to fly in sometime next week. Which would be exactly three weeks after the school year had started up at the Watcher and Slayer Academy.

Then, Emily had told him that his car still hadn't come in from the mechanic's shop where it was being de-slimed after an encounter with a slime spitting Snoltork (a name which had caused several of his so-called "adult" charges to giggle) demon, which meant he couldn't take the Annoying Little Brat (also known as Alisandra) to the school and Coven in Devon for another day.

On top of that, Alisandra was now in his office, whining about something or the other.

"Ugh, I _need_ new clothes!" she was ranting, "I'm going to look like some sort of French Country Wicca-wannabe at school!"

Giles sighed, and noticed Dawn slipping in through the open door and rolling her eyes.

"Bad news," he told the teenager, ignoring Alisandra's outrage at, well, being ignored. "We can't leave until tomorrow."

"What?" Dawn groaned. "We were supposed to leave _two weeks _ago!"

Giles got up and went over to her, bending low and whispering so Alisandra couldn't hear them.

"I know that, and I'm dreadfully sorry that you're missing all of this school, Dawn, really I am, but the Queen of the World over there," here, the Watcher's voice turned sarcastic, "Just _can't _live without one more shop full of clothes. I'd stop her from using Council funds, but that would mean she'd be in my office all day long on one of her extraordinarily long-winded rants."

"But that wasn't long-winded or a rant," Dawn smirked.

"Of course it wasn't," Giles agreed, glaring at her affectionately. "I never rant. I merely…"

"Talk for a really really long time about stuff?" the Key supplied.

"Talk for a really really long time about stuff," Giles agreed, defeated. "Oh dear Lord, I'm a ranter. I might even be a Quentin Travers in the making."

"Ah, don't worry, you'll never be Travers- you have too much hair," Dawn said comfortingly, "Oh, and you're taller! Of course, when you get that old, you might shrink." She added as an afterthought.

"Thank you, Dawn," Giles said dryly. "Just for that you can take Alisandra shopping while I yell at that insufferable Australian and come up with my next… rant."

"Giles!" Dawn whined.

_Obviously, the monks had given her the Summers' pout and whine combo_, Giles reflected, _Bit stupid of them. Didn't they know how dangerous that it? Of course, they might have thought it would work on Glory, but she was a bloody god! And if someone that… tacky can withstand the pout, I can. Or not._

"You have full credit card access to make up for this," Giles bargained, "Just keep her away from me."

The pout retreated as an ecstatic expression found it's way onto the youngest Summers' face.

"Really?" Dawn shrieked loudly, forgetting to whisper and so drawing Alisandra's attention away from herself for once. "Giles, you're awesome. And- And in no way resemble Quentin Travers. At all. And oh my god, Buffy's going to be _so_ jealous!"

"Do remember to buy her something," Giles requested, massaging his ears- really, how on earth did Americans learn to shriek so loud? "Seeing as she has in fact averted the apocalypse…s. The apocalypses."

"Fine," Dawn agreed, but not without a smile, "but I'm _so_ stopping by those twin people's place and getting something really horrible to use on Asses'Sandra."

Giles gave her a stern look.

"You know, just because Buffy seems to have some sort of agreement with the wizards and is making strange pastries with them does not mean you can wander into some mystical part of London where you've never been before and rely on the directions of two redheaded idiots who you spent half the night flirting with," he said. "And now that that's out of the way, Buffy can't kill me when she finds out, so make sure you pick something up for me to use on that little brat as well."

"Will do," Dawn promised. "Hey, Queen Bitch! You going to come shop with me or not?"

Alisandra glared at her.

"How many times have I told you not to call me that?" she demanded.

"Obviously not enough. Everyone says I got Buffy's attention span," Dawn smirked.

"Ugh!" Alisandra groaned. "_Why_ do I need a freaky-haired guard like her? I'm way more powerful than that mini Slayer wannabe."

"But obviously not powerful enough to stop a couple of assassins without Buffy's help," Giles pointed out with a carefully hidden smile.

Alisandra sniffed and left the room, heels clicking annoyingly.

As she walked out, Giles whispered to Dawn, "Your hair looks much better then the nest growing out of her head."

"Thanks, G-man," Dawn said, running out before…

"Dawn, don't call me that!"



Dawn ducked into the store and looked around nervously, checking to make sure Alisandra hadn't followed her. Or Buffy hadn't magically appeared out of nowhere to catch her running off alone (not that Alisandra was any protection). Thankfully, she was alone. Well, except for all of the customers. And salespeople. And anyone else who had decided to hide from evil, annoying, Harmony knock-offs with badly died hair. Okay, so maybe she wasn't alone, but at least she wasn't with Alisandra.

Convinced that she was in a bitch/witch-free zone, Dawn pulled out a wrinkled piece of old, leathery paper. No, wait, Fred had called it parchment. She pulled out a piece of _parchment_ and studied the hastily scribbled directions on it. So, she had to turn left and make a right at the fork onto Charing Cross Road.

The teenager looked around once more, shoved the parchment back into her pocket, and hastily ran out of the shop, ignoring the suspicious looks the salespeople gave her on her way out. She wasn't so successful with ignoring Giles' words about her flirting with the twins.

After all, that had been incredibly rude of him! She had _not _been flirting with either one of them. All she had done was joke with them; laugh at their jokes- like _everyone_ else, well, maybe not Mrs. Weasley- and talk to them about… everything that had ever happened to her that Buffy wouldn't kill her for saying. Oh crap, she had a crush on the twins. Buffy was going to kill them, and then kill her after.

And it wasn't like she even had a chance with either of them. They were _way _older then her. It was just they were both really cute, and funny, and smart, and were totally cooler then Riley and Angel (not Spike, though, Spike taught Dawn how to play kitten poker, therefore he was awesome), and had _really _long boy eyelashes. Eek, she was going to be the biggest spaz at their store, wasn't she?

Once again, Dawn made an emergency stop into a store, this time without the Fear of the Queen Bitch. The store was small, yet ultra chic, and Dawn had just seen The Outfit in the window. Now, as every teenage girl knows, The Outfit if the perfect, to die for, (literally, if you live on a Hellmouth) ensemble of the year. It's the dress, shirt, skirt, or occasionally pants that go together like something off of a runway. And Dawn had just found hers.

"Eahh!" Dawn shrieked, right before she ran into the store.

Thirty minutes later, Dawn walked out of the store as the proud owner of the Christian Dior baby blue strapless minidress, matching sandals, and purse she was now wearing. In the spirit of the moment, Dawn decided to forgive Giles for being right and bless him and all of the other Watchers for the Council Credit Card. Besides, after putting up with Alisandra for two and a half _long_ weeks, she should totally be allowed to buy a few of the designer goodies Alisandra had gotten, right?

Her old clothes had been thrown out, but not before the teenager had remembered to grab the parchment with directions on it out of her pant pocket. Now she looked at it again and started off for Charing Cross Road. There it was! The little pub smashed between the big bookstore and the music shop called _The Leaky Cauldron._

_Bad name for a pub_, Dawn thought. _What if people don't want to eat out of leaky cauldrons. Wait, wasn't Willow always saying that no one uses cauldrons?_

The brunette brushed that thought aside and opened the battered door. Squinting a bit as her eyes adjusted to the dim light, Dawn immediately gulped. No one here seemed to be wearing anything resembling normal clothes, and she could have smacked herself in the head when she remembered that all of these witchy-types wore robes. Oops.

Keeping her eyes firmly trained on the parchment, Dawn skittered through the dingy pub, trying to ignore the mixture of curious, incredulous, and downright unfriendly looks that were coming her way. She had made it all the way outside when she stopped, bewildered. The directions had said _Go outside through the backdoor and one of us will be waiting for you_, so where was the "one of them"?

As if in answer to her question, the solid brick wall behind the became not-so-solid as a large archway appeared in front of her and a tall red-haired man stepped out.

"Hey, Dawn," Fred- it was Fred, right? Wait, there was the little scar on his cheek he'd pointed out. Yep, it was Fred- said.

"Um, hi Fred," Dawn squeaked, inwardly cursing. She sounded like a twelve year old!

Fred looked at her, then paused, "Look at you, all dressed up. Got a date with some poor prat later?"

"Wha-? No. I'm unfortunately date-less. Kinda sucks," Dawn said, trying to relax as Fred led her through the archway.

And then they were in Diagon Alley and all thoughts of clothes, twins, boys, and the lack-of the last two fled from Dawn's mind.

"Whoa."



_Queen's Academy for Watchers and Slayers_

_Thirty miles from Dartmouth_

_Devon, England_

"Okay, don't forget to hand those papers in tomorrow and read up on Basic Transmogrifications in _Magicks of the Goddess_ tomorrow. Only, don't try to do anything on page 31 because… it wouldn't be of the good. There would be blood, and guts, and other icky things," Willow warned, standing up as her class filed out.

She followed them out and began to walk down the sunlit hallways of the school. She walked out of the main building and into the small patch of woods that bordered the school to the East, humming slightly as she went.

Giles had asked her to fill in for one of the teachers from the Coven who was currently stuck in a coma-like vision quest, trying to find out more information about Anya's vision. Naturally, the Wicca had been happy to agree, and found herself hoping that the Seer stayed in her vision thing a bit longer. Teaching classes for the past two weeks had been fun, especially since the school was only half a mile away from the Coven's main building, if you knew the right shortcuts to take.

Harlan's Wood (so named for a rather unfortunate Watcher-In-Training who had met with a sticky end in those same woods thanks to an incident involving a vampire and some badly thrown branches) was actually a very nice place to be. There was something _alive_ about this place, as if you couldn't help being surrounded by life. During her recovery with the Coven, Althenea had taken her out to the woods to meditate quite a bit, saying, "It's a good place to think, and thinking is good. You think here, therefore you are good."

There had been something comforting about hearing that at a time when she had needed assurance of that very thing. Now, Willow made it a habit to sit in the woods and meditate on her own for half an hour or so.

So she rolled a small blanket out on the ground and sat down on it, leaning her back against a broad tree and looking up at the sky.

_Find your center._

Willow searched inside herself, searching for the things that made her _Willow._ It wasn't the Magicks, though that was a part of her, it was the bits and pieces of her that had been there since she'd been born in some weird way. The energy swirled as she found it. The ability to love. Xander. Buffy. Tara. The ability to be strong when she had to be. Power that was inside. The little Willow things and the big Willow things, all meshed together.

But now, as always, there were little disturbances in her aura- a sign that she was troubled. And she was. Thoughts of why Buffy had lied to them all were still there. The what-ifs and the how-could-she's. There were so many questions tied to this whole big _mess_ that Willow didn't even know where to start. Then there were still slight worries over Xander and Anya, even though she was in support of them this time. Tara would always hover in her mind like a ghost, and there were just as many questions about Kennedy.

But, most of all, there was a sense of disturbance everywhere. It was around Willow, it was in Willow. She probed it in her mind and the witch realized that it had been there for ages, but she hadn't noticed it very much when she was surrounded by hundreds of other auras mixing with her own energy. But here, here in the isolation of the "Thinking Place", Willow could feel something _bad_. It was pushing at everyone and everything. Waiting. Watching. Lurking in the shadows.

Even though no one could see it, a frown marred the features of the meditating Wicca as she delved into her own subconscious, trying to figure out what was hiding inside of everyone. She searched and looked inside, working past old issues to find the source of an external problem. That was when she saw it. It was dark and pulsing and… _Wrong_. So, so, wrong. There was just something alien about it that made both inner Willow and physical Willow recoil.

Then it stared at her and she screamed. She screamed and screamed as it reached into her brain.

And outside her mind, the body of Willow Rosenberg stay perfectly still, eyes frozen wide in horror.


	14. Important to Read

So, this is really one big ol' honkin Author's Note, from (you guessed it) the author. That would be me. Howdy!

I just figured I should clarify that since it's been so long. I'm sure some of you have probably seen the note on my profile, where I warned that I'd be discontinuing most of my stories. However, I've decided to rethink that. I had forgotten how many people reviewed this story, and seemed to like it, and, well...

I felt guilty. Really guilty. Especially since I've finally gotten my crap together and everything in Real Life (brr. shudder.) is settling down nicely.

So I have a question, for any of you out there who are still reading...

Would you be open to sticking around for a massive re-write? My biggest problem with so many of my fics is how badly written they are, compared to what I can now do. I really do love this story, and I had so many plans for it, and I hate to have to leave them off. But I have always posted stories here, and at my lj, for the feedback. The feedback's the kicker, guys. It lets me know how I'm doing as a writer, and there's the added bonus of the warm fuzzies that come with it. Without it...well, I'd just be a teenage girl ditching her friends to write pointless stories, wouldn't I? -insert grin here-

So tell me what you think. Would you like to see a re-write, complete with new plot twists, characters, scenes, and maybe even a few new pairings? If yes, click that little review button, or head on over to my lj to tell me what you think. Also, if I do the re-write, I am going to need a beta, so if you would like the job, drop a line in that lovely little review I know you are just dying to write me.

x. Rachel.


	15. Of Phone Calls & Other Matters

**Notes:** Well, here it is. The first new chapter of the story. Well, first old new chapter, if that even makes any sense. For the next few updates, I'm going to be posting to the end of the story, just in case people haven't had time to read my note in the last "update". There's a longer note at the end of the chapter, but right now, it's time for some shameless pimpage. Don't forget to check out my new story, _Set Fire to the Third Bar_ (still looking for a new title) and my new lj, which gets updated a lot more frequently (and faster) then my stories here. The link is in my profile.

Now, for some shout-outs:

**Balover**, **Qihotex, ****Eden's Echo, ****Mister Gordo, ****scruffybunny, A****non, SS13, ****buffyrules-115, ****Spikes Girl5, ****FuriaeIntus, ****Jenna Summers, **and **Allen Pitt**, I can't thank you enough for your feedback. Reviewers like you are the only reason I didn't completely abandon this story when life started getting hectic. It's hard to describe how good it feels to be hitting the **bold** button time after time to type your names out.

**Please Review! **

**

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"_The best stories in life start with "Once upon a time…"."_

- Dorothy Parker**

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Chapter One

**Of Phone Calls and Other Matters**

_Beep. Beep. Beep. _

_"Buffy, get your butt out of bed!"_

_Beep. Beep. Beep. _

"I think you should answer that."

Buffy Summers groaned and rolled over, refusing to open her eyes.

"It's just going to continue all morning," the man continued, seeming highly amused. "It might even get worse. Who knows what Willow has programmed that thing to do if you ignore it for to long."

Eyes still kept firmly shut, Buffy's lips still managed to form into a drowsy smile as she thought of the other things Willow had recently programmed her phone to do; little things like having a direct connection to the President's personal phone, and having the nearest Starbucks location automatically programmed into her phone via satellite. The drowsy smile became more alert at the thought of coffee…perhaps that little place in the village?

Her thoughts were interrupted when she felt him move against her before placing a kiss in the hollow of her throat. The grin on her face began to widen, especially when he began moving lower, flicking his tongue over her smooth skin. Involuntarily, she gave a little purr of pleasure. Whatever her friends had to say about him, there were definite perks to dating Dante, not the least of which was the two thousand years of experience he had.

Before they could really get into their…activities, Willow's pre-recorded voice blared from the phone again.

_"Buffy, get your butt out of bed!"_

And if that wasn't a mood killer, Buffy really didn't know what was.

Sighing regretfully, the Slayer finally let the covers fall off her and hopped out of the bed, padding across the room to the rolled up ball of clothes near the door. The Immortal leaned back on his pillows and watched as she sifted through her clothes, searching for the cell phone that was still beeping obnoxiously.

He loved to watch her. There was something mesmerizing about her; it was present in every motion her lithe, tanned body made, every toss of her head or quirk of her lips. He had never seen it in a Slayer before – the cat-like grace with which she moved, yes, but not that unidentifiable quality which so fascinated him. It hadn't taken him long to figure out what it was, though. One night with this particular woman was all that was necessary for him to realize that it was passion that he saw – pure, and unadulterated, the kind of passion that was present in only a few, usually the hero-types he so despised. But while one night had been all that was necessary, it hadn't been all he wanted. Fortunately, she'd felt the same way.

The Immortal paused his musings long enough to watch as she bent over and triumphantly plucked her magically-enhanced cell phone out of her jeans.

_Ah, the Great Phone Hunt is finished_, he thought.

"I'll be right back," she said, jerking her head toward the phone apologetically.

He nodded and settled back on his pillows to watch her leave, long hair swaying just above her…

_Vaffanculo!_

She had grabbed a robe on her way out.

* * *

Buffy slipped out the villa's wide double doors and headed down to the beach. There was no one around for miles, and she felt reasonably sure that she wouldn't be overheard. She could just hear Giles lecturing her for "neglecting the security of the Council", though, so she ran further down the shore. Once she was out of sight of the house, she dialed the number for Giles's office. 

"Good afternoon, this is the office of Rupert Giles, Director of the International Watcher's Council, how may I help you?"

"Hey, Emily," Buffy said, recognizing the clipped Oxford accent of Giles's new secretary. "I need to talk to Giles."

"Just a moment, Miss Summers," Emily responded promptly.

There was a slight pause, and then Giles's familiar voice was saying, "Buffy, what took you so long?"

"I'm good, it's nice to talk to you, too," she sniped.

"Buffy, this is not the time for games. I've been calling you for over an hour."

"I'm sorry, Giles," she said. "I was a little busy with other things."

Her mind immediately strayed to a picture of the very naked Dante, who was probably still waiting for her in bed. A pleased grin curved over her mouth, but it quickly evaporated with Giles's next comment.

"Busy with the Immortal?" he asked shrewdly.

"His name is Dante," she snapped.

Giles sighed.

"Must you continue this relationship with him?" he asked. "The longer you keep this up, the more you are placing yourself, not to mention the rest of the Council, in danger."

"It's not a relationship," the Slayer protested half-heartedly.

"And what exactly would you prefer to call it?"

"Dante and I have an…arrangement," she said.

"An arrangement," Giles repeated slowly. "Have you gone mad? You are willing to risk the entire future of the Council on an _arrangement_?"

Buffy took a deep breath and counted to ten. It wouldn't do anyone any good if she crushed her cell phone into powder. Besides, she really didn't want to find out what protection spells Willow had put on the phone this time – a fleeting memory of a boil-covered Fyarl demon flitted through her mind, and she shuddered.

"Don't you think you're exaggerating just a little, Giles?" she asked tiredly. "I don't think the Council is going to collapse if I have sex with someone who actually has a pulse."

She could hear Giles sputtering on the other end of the line.

"You know this is more than that," he said. "This isn't just about you…satisfying your urges with the Immortal."

She could practically hear him polishing his glasses, and tried very hard not to laugh. Before she could stop herself, a giggle escaped her. Luckily, he chose to ignore her and continued.

"Whether you like it or not, you are still the Slayer," he told her.

"_A_ Slayer," she corrected him.

"You may be one of many, now, but you are the Slayer. It's who you are."

She had no reply to this, because, deep down, she knew he was right. She was the last of the true Chosen line – the last one to stand alone. The new generation of Slayers she and Willow had called would never know the feeling of having the world resting on their shoulders. They would always have others to share the load.

"You didn't call me to lecture me about my love life, did you, Giles?" she asked, changing the subject. "Because we already know it's a lost cause."

Giles sighed.

"No, you're right," he agreed. "I apologize for getting so far off topic."

Buffy let a deep breath out and forced herself to relax. Things were always strained between her and the rest of the Scoobies whenever Dante came up; Willow was the only one who seemed okay with her "arrangement". And really, that's what it was. They didn't love each other, far from it, and she couldn't pretend she was ignorant about his less-then-savory activities. However, he provided a nice distraction for her, and they enjoyed each other's company. That was really all she was looking for.

"So what did you call about?" she asked, feigning levity.

She heard him hesitate for a moment before he spoke.

"I wanted to know if you'd be open to coming to London," he said. "Not," he hastened to add, "because of the Imm- _Dante_."

"Why, then?" she asked immediately.

"Willow has been noticing some strange power surges around Europe lately," he told her. "At first, we put it down to the influx of new Slayers, but Althenea just called and told us that the Coven was getting worried about it. We have people researching further, but still -"

At this point, Buffy cut him off.

"So have people research it," she told him firmly. "That's no reason to call me to London, and you know it. What is it? What aren't you telling me, Giles?"

"I can't tell you that," he said.

"What?" _Count to ten, Buffy, count to ten. Remember what happened to the Fyarl demon. Count to ten. One, two, three, four, five, six, sev- oh, screw it._

"What the hell do you mean? I don't think anyone deserves to know if - "

"Buffy, calm down," Giles said. "I just meant that the information you want to know isn't safe to be told over the telephone."

"So you just don't want your new secretary eavesdropping?" she summarized, smirking when she heard a soft _click_.

"Precisely," he replied. "We have a meeting scheduled for tomorrow afternoon at 3 o'clock. A plane is waiting for you in Rome."

"I'll be there," she promised. "Oh, and Giles?"

"Yes, Buffy?"

"Fire your secretary."

Buffy pressed END and started walking back to the villa. She figured it would take her an hour to pack, and another hour or so to get back to the city. What that really meant, was that she had half a day with Dante before she had to leave. She found herself humming happily as she made her way back to her very comfortable bed.

* * *

In London, however, her sister was feeling anything but happy. 

Dawn Summers had two weeks to go before the new term started at Oxford, and she was bored to tears.

At first, she had been more then able to amuse herself by going clubbing with the mini-Slayers, as she referred to the former Potentials, and shopping to her heart's content with the new Council credit cards (hey, Giles owed her for not telling anyone about what she'd caught him doing during his "personal briefing" with Althenea). After having grown up on the Hellmouth, though, those things had quickly lost their excitement.

Everyone had given up trying to cheer her up, too. Willow had meditated with her and shown her some neat new spells ("Don't tell Buffy, 'kay, Dawnie?") and Vi had rounded up some of the more relaxed mini-Slayers to go out with her for yet another whirlwind night of clubbing. Even Andrew had tried, by attempting to introduce her to his world of comic books and Jedi adventures.

Since the summer began, though, she'd only had one truly interesting evening. She'd been at a trendy new Soho restaurant with Matthew, one of the new Watchers. The restaurant was one of those pseudo-Wicca places that seemed to be springing up everywhere, complete with pre-meal meditation and seating on the floor. None of that was very extraordinary, and sadly, the same could be said for her companion. Matthew, she quickly found, was a self-absorbed, Cambridge-educated ass, a bit like her early memories of Wesley. After about three minutes of his monologue on the "inaccuracy of such establishments as the one they were in", she'd let her attention drift, until, eventually, something on the wall had caught her eye.

It had been hard to tell when she entered the dimly lit restaurant, but she quickly noticed that the walls were covered in strange symbols. That wouldn't have been particularly fascinating, even to her, a self-confessed "language freak", but for the fact that she had the feeling she'd seen them before. Not from some obscure ancient text or prophecy, but somewhere else…somewhere earlier.

Uncharacteristically, for Dawn was a girl with a notoriously good memory ("But Buffy, you promised you'd lend me your new boots if I stopped stealing your lip gloss!"), it took her all night to remember where she last saw the symbol. Matthew, seeing her slight frown of concentration, and fancying that it was concentration on _him_ that had her looking so fascinated, thought to himself that he'd finally found someone who appreciated his importance. This may have been what prompted him to ask her to dinner again once the meal was over. Thankfully, Dawn wasn't too preoccupied to refuse him – she did that with remarkable haste.

It wasn't until she'd gotten back to her flat (alright, so it was really Buffy's flat – it wasn't like her sister was ever around to use it) that she figured out where she'd seen the troublesome little symbol. Almost as if she was seeing it through someone else's eyes, an old memory resurfaced.

_Heavy yellow parchment and a quill pen were neatly set out on an equally neat desk. Next to it, a large book lay open to a page full of strange, squiggly signs and symbols. _

_Ten-year-old Dawn Granger knew she shouldn't be in her big sister's room – Hermione always did get angry when she caught her snooping – but she couldn't help herself. She always wanted to know what it was about her sister that everyone kept trying to hide from her. _

_She shut the door behind her and slowly made her way up to the desk. _

_The first thing she saw was a heavy black symbol, all curvy sides and twisting lines, on the parchment. Underneath it, in the neat handwriting she knew was her sister's she saw the words "ehwaz – partnership or alliance." Then she heard the front door slam and quickly ran from the room. _

This memory had floated through her mind ever since, making any of the usual activities that would have ended her boredom seem pointless and annoying. She'd forgotten about all that, if, indeed, she ever really remembered anything at all. Her memories of that time were hazy and uncertain, and even if they weren't, she'd received too many harsh warnings on the subject to delve any deeper.

None of that was enough to combat her curiosity, though. It was only natural; she was a Summers, after all. And so it was that she found herself taking a drive out to Hertfordshire with one of the Council cars one lazy summer afternoon in August. She knew as soon as she left London that her impromptu trip was not a good idea. No matter what her sister thought of her, she was (almost) always conscious of when she was making a mistake. And leaving on the eve of an important, Scooby-only briefing that she planned to sneak into definitely qualified as a mistake.

But, in an act that showed the monks had done a pretty good job of making her Buffy's sister, she did it anyway. And at 7:30 p.m. on that same August day, now evening, she pulled up in front of a cheery looking house in the village of Long Marston.

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**Notes:** I hope you liked it. I know I had fun writing it, even though it was a little short. Don't worry - my first chapters have always been short, if you remember.It feels good to be back with this story. Refreshing, I guess is the word. Once again, though, I am begging for some feedback on it. Not just from the "warm fuzzies" standpoint, either, but for a very serious reason.

Rewriting this story is hard. I've been trying to mature it a little without losing the humor (which may not be as evident in this first chapter - again, I caution you to wait), and I have no idea if it works or not. Ideally, I'd like a beta, but I'm not sure if I should get one or not. Really, I rely on reviews to let me know how I'm doing. A one or two sentence - hell, one- or two-_word_ review lets me know if I'm doing my job right. I know everyone doesn't have the time to give long, insightful reviews, and I'm not asking for that. I just need to know what I can do to improve this story.

I've been looking over those surveys from Chapter Ten again, and they're pretty helpful. I'm surprised so many people were cool enough to answer it for me, too. I think I might have to do another one to get a more accurate idea of what I should do with this. Don't worry, if I do one at all, it'll be MUCH shorter.

I'm gonna end this a/n the same way I ended the one up top - with a heartfelt thanks to everyone who offered me thier opinions and advice on what I should do with this story, and a reminder to:

**Please Review! **


	16. The Different Faces of Maturity

**Notes:** Thank you to everyone who reviewed! Shout-outs will be in my lj (see link in my profile). Hope you enjoy the story!

**Please Review!**

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Things do not change; we change._

_- Henry David Thoreau_**

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**Chapter Two**

**The Different Faces of Maturity**

The house was just the right size – not too large, but not small, either. _Cozy_, that was the word Mum had used to describe it. A few of the windows had been opened in the hopes that a breeze might pass by, letting thick bands of yellow light shine out into the night. Altogether, the house looked exactly as it should. It looked like a home.

For Dawn, it was painfully easy to pretend she still lived there. She could still remember it clearly, even though she never mentioned it to Buffy. She remembered her sister sitting up in her room for the few short days or weeks that she was home, scribbling wildly on bits of parchment. Sometimes Mum would convince her to watch Dawn, and they would play games together.

Best of all, late at night, she would crawl into Buffy's bed and her sister would tell stories. Stories about giants and unicorns, monsters that were half-horse and half-eagle, people who could turn into animals, magic spells, flying carriages, and a school where you could learn magic. Looking back on it, Dawn knew that the stories couldn't have been true – the "magic spells" were really nothing more than a jumble of made-up words and a strange bastardization of Latin. But back then, the stories had seemed incredibly real, and some small part of her still believed in them, although she didn't know why.

Of course, even then, she would lose her sister to someone else. Now it was demons and vampires, the Council and the Scoobies, who claimed Buffy's attention. Back then, it had been those strangely dressed people. Mr. Moody and Mr. Moony, she thought their names were. And sometimes, the redheads would come along to pick her up, too. There had been quite a few of them, she was sure. A set of grinning twins; a tall, freckled boy; an extremely good-looking man with long hair and a fang earring; and their father, with hair as red as any of them, even if he was balding.

Dawn let out a bitter laugh at those memories. It seemed that the monks had screwed up, after all. They should have given her to Faith, the Slayer no one wanted. It seemed like she would never get a chance to spend time with her sister. There was always something more important.

Face hard, she got back in the car and drove off before one of the neighbors could come out and ask her what she was doing there.

* * *

Buffy had been in England for less then an hour, and already she wanted to leave. 

She hated the whole country, now. It was a place that held too much of her history, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't quite forget about…things.

The whole country made her sick with fear, now. Merely setting foot on British soil had been enough to set it off. What if someone she knew recognized her? She knew it was unlikely, but what if? What if she accidentally wandered into Wizarding London? It could happen; she was more familiar with Diagon Alley and its environs then she was with the whole rest of the city, for all that she had a flat in the heart of Chelsea.

And then there were darker worries. What about Voldemort? Was he still active? Did he still attack Mug- the rest of the world? Would he know if she was back in England? Would he care?

She couldn't stop thinking of Him. Deep down, she just _knew_ something bad was going to happen because she was here. She didn't care if it sounded stupid or superstitious. She had a feeling.

And one thing Buffy had quickly learned was, when the Slayer has a feeling about something, people listen.

That was what she was hoping for, anyway, when she burst through the doors of the Watcher's Council Headquarters. However, her impressive entrance was hampered by the fact that she had no idea where Giles's office was. The last time she'd been in the building, they'd had barely twenty Watchers and two secretaries; half the building had been unused. Now, there were people everywhere – coming, going, and some choosing to just stop and stare at her.

_How rude_, she thought, channeling her inner Stephanie Tanner.

Where to go?

Just as she was wondering if she ask one of the suit-clad Watchers where Giles's office was, she spotted the sign by the front desk. Trying to look as if she knew exactly what she was doing, (she was their boss, after all), she sidled up oh-so-carefully to the large signpost.

DIRECTOR'S OFFICE….TOP FLOOR , she read. Well, that cleared things up. Now, where were the elevators?

After twenty minutes, and two "I am not the new secretary"s, Buffy arrived on Giles's floor.

There was a pretty young woman with sandy blonde hair sitting at the desk in front of his office door, and Buffy assumed that she must be the devious assistant Giles had been complaining to her about.

"Hi, Emily," she said, stepping out of the elevator. "Can you tell Giles…uh, Mr. Giles, that I'd like to speak with him?"

"Miss Summers?" Emily confirmed.

"Uh huh. Oh, and tell him it's important," she added.

"I've been told that everything you say is important," Emily smiled, pressing the button on the phone that called Giles's office.

Buffy smiled, but made no response as Emily had just started talking.

"Mr. Giles, Miss Summers would like to speak with you. She says it's urgent."

Buffy frowned. It wasn't precisely what she'd said, but close enough. And knowing Giles, little slip-ups like that probably had him in conniptions. What was she thinking? There was no "probably" about it. She'd been forced to listen to his rants first hand.

"You may enter," Emily, herself, said.

Buffy broke away from her thoughts with a blush.

"Thanks," she murmured, walking into Giles's office.

The moment she saw the look on his face, Buffy knew that she was right; something had gone wrong. His glasses had that too-shiny glare coming off them that meant he'd just cleaned them, and there was that something in his expression that immediately recalled the night he'd let Wood attack Spike. He was worried, and trying his best to hide it.

"What happened?" she asked at once.

He didn't question how she knew that something bad had happened. He merely sighed and gestured to her to sit down.

"Dawn is missing," he began.

"When did you last see her?" was the first thing out of the Slayer's mouth.

His eyebrows went up at that. He'd expected her to start screaming, or at least swear a bit (he really wished Spike hadn't taught her so many _colorful_ words). However, she was calm. It was almost as if she'd expected something like this to happen. He shook off the idea, though; even Buffy had some limitations on what she could do, no matter how strong she'd become.

"Earlier this morning. No one thought anything of her being gone until she wouldn't answer her phone."

"Do you have any idea what happened to her?"

"None whatsoever, although one of the Council's cars is missing."

Buffy nodded to herself and looked away, seeming lost in thought.

"She might just be on a ride somewhere," he felt it necessary to add. "She has been feeling rather restless lately."

"We don't know that," she said sharply. "Anything could have happened to her. You know how dangerous the people looking for the Key are. And even if they didn't know she was the Key, someone could be looking for a way to distract me from whatever this mysterious meeting is going to be about."

He nodded gravely. There really was no arguing with that, although he was surprised at her reaction. Buffy had always been protective of her sister, but as Dawn had grown older, she'd relaxed quite a bit. There was something nagging him about the whole situation, though. Buffy was almost prepared for some catastrophe to occur.

"Giles, snap out of it," Buffy said, recalling him from his thoughts. "We have to find Dawn."

"Of course," he said, getting back to business. "We already have people looking, of course, and we've alerted both the Coven in Devon and the Covens in County Clare and Fife."

"That's good," she said. "What can I do?"

Giles hesitated. He couldn't think of any way she could help. She hadn't yet arrived when Dawn left, and she hated to research or investigate anything. Until they'd found where Dawn was, there really was…

"That's a big fat nothing, isn't it?" she asked.

"Well, it's just that…" he trailed off.

"You've got everything covered?" she finished. "That's great. Really."

"Buffy, are you alright?" he began.

"No," she snapped. "My sister is missing and I can't do anything to find her. Would you be alright?"

"I know this isn't helping, but we do have everything under control," he tried to soothe her. "I'm sure she will turn up in no time."

Buffy didn't look convinced. If anything, she looked even more worried.

"Go home," he urged her. "Get some rest. We'll all be busy enough tomorrow."

She nodded absently, and both of them stood up. Just as she turned to leave, she turned around and hugged him.

"It's good to see you," she murmured, before exiting the office.

Just as the door swung shut, Giles couldn't help but think that it was good to have her back. Life just wasn't the same without Buffy around, being…well, being _Buffy_. Then he wondered what Quentin Travers would have to say in response to that thought.

Outside the office, Emily heard her employer suddenly break into a fit of laughter like no other she'd heard from him. Shaking her head, she went back to printing out his appointments for the next two weeks and stuffed them in her purse, before leaving for lunch.

* * *

Worrying about Dawn exhausted Buffy faster then any other activity. Unfortunately, it was also the only thing she could do at the moment. 

She had been pacing around the flat for over two hours, occasionally throwing things when she felt particularly frustrated. So far she'd managed to break a clock, the coffee table, a chair, a few picture frames, and the television, with the end result being that the room looked like a hurricane had just hit. The neighbors would probably complain, she reflected, but she had once saved the building's owner from a vampire, so she doubted they'd be evicted…assuming there was still a "they" to speak of, and Dawn hadn't been kidnapped by Death Eaters.

She let out a little scream of rage and kicked the couch. Too preoccupied to control her strength, she stopped pacing long enough to watch it rise a few feet in the air and fly backwards, before landing on top of an end table with a deafening crash.

_Oops._

She focused her hearing for a moment, and distinctly heard the sound of buttons being pressed in the flat across the hall.

"I'd like to report a disturbance," the high, breathy voice of Angela Simkiss, a snooty Sloane with a penchant for nosiness, whispered into the phone.

"I've been hearing some funny noises in the flat across the hall. There's all sorts of banging and screaming going on." A pause, then – "No, I am sure no one is "having a kinky shag." Really, sir, how revolting." Another pause. "The address is Number 8, 1408 Havington Way. The flat is on the top floor. I think you should have one of those SWAT team thingamees, too. I'm quite sure something extraordinary vio-."

There was a faint click. The dispatcher had hung up.

Buffy smirked, but it faded immediately as she realized what her meddlesome neighbor had done. _Stupid cow. _

Shaking her head in disgust, she reached for the phone and prayed that Angela had phoned in more then her share of phony complaints.

"Hello, you have reached the Metropolitan Police Force," the pre-recorded voice of a woman said.

A list of numbers to dial and their various functions followed. When the woman said, "Please press 3 to speak with a dispatcher," Buffy obligingly dialed, and within seconds, she found herself speaking with someone.

_They're better then the Sunnydale Department_, she thought.

"Hi," she said, "Um, my name is Buffy Summers, and well…" Here, she affected a slightly embarrassed laugh. "My neighbor – her name's Angela Simkiss – she, well…she's a little nosy sometimes, and me and my boyfriend were - " Cue another giggle. "Um, engaging in some extra-curricular activities, and we might have been a little noisy, and - "

The dispatcher cut her off.

"Miss Simkiss called our station asking for an entire squad of bobbies?" he finished.

"Yeah," Buffy said, making sure she sounded appropriately embarrassed.

"Don't worry, Miss Summers," he said. "I'll tell the bobbies to hold off. Lord knows we have enough "complaints"' from that woman."

"Thank you so much," she said.

Although the dispatcher couldn't see it, she frowned. Had that been too over the top?

He seemed to buy it though, because he said, "It's nothing. Really, we're quite used to her antics. She's a bit of a joke around here, you know. Although, this is all off the record, of course," he added hastily.

"Of course," Buffy echoed.

The dispatcher prattled on a bit more. She mostly tuned him out, walking over to the front door. She opened it and slammed it shut quickly.

"Oh!" she exclaimed. "My boyfriend's just come back. It was nice talking with you."

She hung up quickly.

Making a mental note to talk to the landlord about Angela, she walked over to the displaced couch and collapsed on it, exhausted. Now that little problem was dealt with, she was right back to worrying about Dawn.

_Come on, guys, _she thought desperately. _You owe me. I've saved the world – a lot. It was on my tombstone and everything. Can you just do me this one teeny little favor and make sure Dawn gets home alright?_

She didn't know if anyone had heard her, but after her little prayer, she was too tired to care. With one last silent plea for help, Buffy collapsed on the couch, fast asleep.

She didn't wake up for several hours, and when she did, she was _not_ happy.

Wobbling slightly, with her hair mussed and her shirt on backwards, Dawn Summers finally made her appearance in the flat.

Now fully awake, Buffy sat up and watched as her sister attempted to quietly close the door behind her. Unfortunately for her, she failed, and fell into it instead.

"Whoops," Dawn giggled.

Buffy's eyes narrowed. Her nostrils flared, and she could smell the alcohol Dawn's breath had let into the air. Still, she stayed silent, and let Dawn navigate the darkened room on her own, smirking maliciously as the teen gained several bumps and bruises from the scattered furniture.

She would not yell. Dawn was a grown woman now, as she kept reminding her sister. And if she wanted to be immature enough to have half the Council and every Wiccan in the British Isles out searching for her while she went and got herself sloshed, so be it. But her sister had better not expect any sympathy in the morning.

* * *

"Uhhh," Dawn groaned, rolling over to keep the sunlight out of her face. 

She was in pain. Lots and lots of pain. It felt like someone had set an army of very tiny people to work hammering at her skull. She had the worst leg cramp, too.

Cracking one eye open slowly, she saw the reason for that.

She was sleeping on the floor, one leg curled close to her body, the other sticking out at an unnatural angle. Luckily, there was a knocked over chair not too far from her that would keep the sun from getting in her eyes.

Letting another groan escape her lips, she crawled towards it. She was too tired to do much more then get her head beneath it, but that was enough. Closing her eyes again, she prepared for sleep to overtake her once more.

That was not to be, however.

"What are you doing?" Dawn mumbled.

It was rather obvious what Buffy was doing, though. There was no mistaking the chair she carried under one arm like a strangely shaped purse.

Buffy didn't answer, and Dawn dismissed the act as yet another or her sister's quirks before crawling over to the nearest piece of furniture – a coffee table in this case. Well, _most_ of a coffee table, anyway, since it seemed that a few of the legs were missing. Was that one of them sticking out of the wall? Too tired to try and figure out how it had gotten there, Dawn closed her eyes again.

And, once again, Buffy calmly walked up and plucked the table off the ground, setting it next to the end table, which she'd lined up against one of the living room walls in some sort of broken furniture line-up.

What was going on?

She was awake, now, and she didn't much like that fact. Sitting up groggily, she rubbed her eyes and said,

"Did you get possessed again?"

Her sister didn't answer. She just went back to the kitchen and grabbed her cereal bowl. Moving back to the couch – had that moved? – the Slayer tucked her feet up under her and grabbed her laptop.

"Buffy?" Dawn called. Why wasn't she answering?

Her concern beginning to override the hangover, Dawn stood up. Alright, she wobbled a bit, but at least she wasn't lying on the floor anymore.

"Buffy?" she repeated. "What's wrong?"

Teetering slightly, and trying to ignore the roaring headache she had, she made her way over to the couch and more or less fell on top of her sister.

Buffy shoved her to the side and picked her computer back up. Maybe it was the laptop then? Dawn vaguely remembered hearing something about a demon hiding in the internet.

"Buffy? Buffy, is there a demon in the computer?"

There was still no reply. Dawn could have smacked herself. Of course Buffy wouldn't tell her if there was an internet demon controlling her. _Duh_.

But what should she do? She had no idea where the phone was, and if she left her sister alone long enough to find it, there was no telling what could happen. Granted, she hadn't done much more then sit around and steal shady furniture, but anything could happen. Her best bet would be removing the computer, then. Maybe the demon needed contact to possess people?

She tried grabbing the computer from her sister, but the Slayer wasn't letting go.

"Dawn," Buffy said, her voice dangerously calm, "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Dawn faltered. She didn't sound possessed…But this could all be a ploy of the demon's…

"I'm saving you from yourself," she said firmly.

Buffy made a strange sound, somewhere between a snort and a sigh.

"I'm not possessed."

"Then why are you acting like this?" Dawn challenged. _Show the demon who's boss_, she reminded herself. That's what Willow had told her, anyway.

Buffy looked angry, but not before her sister had a chance to see something else flickering across her face, something uglier. Disappointment?

"Did you ever think that I could be pissed off that you're acting like this?" she snapped.

Dawn was confused. "Acting like what?"

_Uh oh_. That had definitely been the wrong thing to say.

"'Acting like what?'" Buffy repeated. "Seriously? You go and make with the Paris Hilton-ing, get the entire freaking Council worried about you, not to mention _me_, the big sister who you promised you'd "act like a mature, responsible adult kind of thing", and then you – you…" she sputtered for a moment, clearly lost for words.

So that's what this was about. Suddenly, Dawn was feeling pretty angry herself.

"Like you haven't ever come home late? Or gotten drunk? Or made any other bad decisions?" she said.

"That was different."

"How?"

"Because I, at least, took responsibility for it. You decide to take off without warning anyone, and have everyone half-dead with worry," Buffy said acidly.

Ouch. She'd forgotten that tone. It had been awhile.

"So I can't go for a drive on my own now?" she shouted. "What, is little Dawnie just too young to drive now? Was the government wrong? Should they move the age limit up?"

"Shut up, Dawn."

"No! I can say what I want, when I want to. I'm an adult now, just in case you forgot. Remember – it happened that day you ditched my party to go save the Coven from a pack of Hellhounds."

"What, partying is more important then people dying? Yeah, Dawn, you're acting really mature."

"Maybe it is," Dawn said wildly, knowing it wasn't true. "There are loads of other Slayers, you didn't have to go."

"Most of them were on assignment," Buffy said, grabbing her computer. "I was the only one left who had any experience in the field. But you already knew that, Dawn."

Shaking her head, Buffy left, leaving her sister behind in the ruined room.

Buffy had no idea what she was going to do for the rest of the day.

Sure, she had some reports from the Slayers in Italy to look over, and a whole list of things she wanted to break, but other then that she had absolutely nothing to do until the mysterious meeting later that day.

Unfortunately, she finished reviewing the reports by 10, even after rereading them twice, which left her with five hours until the meeting. She knew she should go back to the flat and talk to Dawn, or at least call her, but she didn't want to.

_Dawn's an adult now_, she reminded herself. _And she's got to start owning up for her own mistakes._

By noon, she had coerced an intern into giving her a tour of the building, accidentally broken a copy machine, and walked in on two people having sex in an office. (Watchers could be so repressed sometimes, but when they got going…she was going to have nightmares for at least a week.) In other words, she needed to go somewhere.

She suddenly felt the irresistible urge to borrow a leaf from Dawn's book and get drunk, just to see what people would do. But she, too, was an adult, one with an important meeting in a few hours, and she couldn't afford to miss it. So, regrettably, that plan was shelved until another time. Eventually, she decided to explore the city for a bit. She should probably learn more about the place she would almost certainly be living in for an extended period of time, and it wouldn't do for her to be almost totally clueless about it.

Her first order of business was finding a map. Thankfully, her secretary – why and how she had one, she did not know, but strongly suspected Giles had had something to do with it – had one in her desk, and had been more then happy to hand it over. She'd even pointed out places the Slayer might want to see, and some warnings on which neighborhoods to avoid.

_Nice girl_, Buffy thought a few minutes later as she left the Council building. _What was her name again?_

She used the Great Name Search, as she'd privately dubbed it, to occupy herself during the short walk to the Tube station, and the even shorter ride that followed. She got off at Whitechapel. She took a good look around as she got outside. This had been one of the neighborhoods her secretary had warned her about, and she could see why.

Buffy had seen plenty of bad neighborhoods in her life, and she couldn't say that Whitechapel was the worst – not by a long shot. Images sprang to mind of adrenaline-ridden trips to Watts from her Hemery days. Whitechapel was still pretty bad, though, especially when compared to the wealthy, refined areas of the city that she had come to associate with London.

_That's what you get for spending all your time with Watchers_, she mentally reminded herself.

Shaking her head, she decided it would be a good idea to pull her coat on. Dressed for the weather as she was, in a skimpy top more suitable for beaches in Italy then a blue collar neighborhood in England, might gain her more attention then she would like. To be sure, it _was_ attention she was looking for, just not of the mangy old man or sexual predator persuasion. She had something a little more supernatural in mind.

She slipped her sunglasses on with her free hand and set off down the street.

_Here, evil creature. Here, little evil creature. Come out, come out, wherever you are. _

After about half an hour of searching with no luck, Buffy was more then a little put out. Of course, she knew that it was unlikely she'd find a creature of the night out lurking in the middle of a very public neighborhood when it, well, wasn't night, but she'd still hoped.

Then it hit her.

Of course. Why hadn't she thought of it earlier? If the creatures of the night couldn't be out during the day… creaturing, then they would have to be somewhere else. Somewhere indoors, and large, too. A place where no one would ask any questions.

_Warehouses_.

Hadn't Spike once told her that he'd kidnapped and tortured Angel in one to get the Gem of Amara? (She hadn't spoken to him for a week after he admitted that.) Hadn't she and Willow once laughed after Cordelia had complained to her best friend on the phone for an hour about how much she hated warehouses (and all the demons that were to be found in them) because Slaying in them always left her with "the nastiest things" all over her clothes?

She couldn't believe it had taken her so long to figure it out. She was supposed to be the brightest witch of her age.

Had any of the passers-by on the busy street stopped to take a good look at the pretty blonde walking back to the Tube station, they would have seen a strangely pained look float across her face.

She wasn't a witch. She had to remember that. More then anything else, she must remember that she was not a witch. She was a Slayer. The Slayer, if you wanted to take Giles's view of it, which was probably, by default, the Council's official position as well. But she was not a witch, and she certainly wasn't a witch who'd been told that she was "the brightest of her age".

Buffy was an adult, now, and had been for quite some time. She had a job, and responsibilities, and all sorts of other grown-uppish things. Now, more then ever, she could not afford to falter in her lie. The Old Council may be gone, but there were other, far more sinister things that could befall her family now. Distance was her only security, both mental and physical.

_Slayers will stick together_, she thought suddenly. _But The Slayer always walks alone._

With this grim thought in mind, she squared her shoulders and boarded the train for Wapping.

The ride was fairly quick, with Wapping being so close to Whitechapel. It probably wouldn't have taken her long to walk there, but even she wasn't willing to tempt Fate in such a dodgy neighborhood.

When she emerged from the station a few minutes later, she made a beeline for the abandoned wharves near the river. After a bit of searching, she found a cluster of run-down warehouses that seemed perfect for hiding someone.

_Something_, she mentally corrected herself. _They _are _demons. _

However, as she drew nearer to the warehouses, she discovered that her first statement had been right. Or, rather, _both_ statements were right.

Her Slayer senses made it possible to hear the voices inside, and many of them were unmistakably human. They could have been vampires, she reasoned, but she would sense a vampire, especially a group as large as this one seemed to be.

She could smell them, too. There was that underlying scent that every human had; it varied from person to person, and could be appealing or revolting, but it was there, and impossible to get rid of.

_People it is, then._

She crept inside, making sure she didn't even breathe loudly. For all of Giles's jokes that she had the stealth of a wounded hippo, Buffy really was quite good at sneaking around. Leftovers from another life, she supposed.

It came in handy now, as she moved to hide behind a dusty collection of crates. For once, she was glad she was so small, or they would never have covered her.

She crouched low to the ground, coiled to spring should she be discovered. She was in a perfect position to overhear the people, now, and what she heard had her trying to melt into the boxes.

"The Dark Lord will be most displeased, Nott, when I have to inform him that your little blunder cost us his most prized possession," a silky voice, as familiar as it was feared, whispered.

"You have my humblest apologies, Lucius," Nott said.

By peeping around the edge of the crates, she could just make out Nott's form, bowed ridiculously low to the ground as he groveled at Lucius's feet. Buffy's nose wrinkled in distaste. The action turned out to be a bad idea as doing so caused her to breathe in quite a bit of dust.

_Oh no._

Buffy bit down hard on one hand and covered her nose with each other, successfully stopping a very loud sneeze from escaping.

_Whew, that was close_.

"Very well, then," Lucius said, and Buffy realized that she had just missed something. "I will not punish you."

That was odd. Wasn't Nott supposed to have lost one of Voldemort's most precious things? She couldn't imagine an infraction like that going unpunished among the Death Eaters.

Sure enough, she could see a pleased smile snaking its way across Malfoy's face. She didn't think it could even be called a smile; it was more of a grimace, really. And whatever the idea that had sparked that grimace was, she was sure it could not be of the good.

"I will let our youngest friend do it for me," he said.

He raised one pale hand and beckoned to a small, reedy looking boy – for he seemed to be more boy then man, for all that he had to be at least as old as she was – and gestured for him to come forward.

"Tell me, Theodore, with who does your loyalty lie?" Lucius asked, his eyes glittering with malice.

Theodore…she'd known this boy once. He'd probably been a Slytherin, so that narrowed things down a bit. There was something familiar about him, too, although she couldn't quite place it.

"With the Dark Lord, as always," the boy – Theodore – recited dutifully.

The voice did it. She'd heard that whiny, nasal voice a thousand times before, in lessons with the Slytherins. Occasionally, she'd even heard it poking fun at her. Theodore was Theodore Nott, one of the numerous Slytherins she remembered tagging along with Malfoy, doing anything for a scrap of his attention.

_Nott_, she thought, as she realized what Malfoy was planning. _That would make him – _

"Your own son," Malfoy crowed, "Punishing Father for his mistakes. You would do it, wouldn't you? You would protect the Dark Lord from incompetent fools."

Theodore nodded mechanically, although she could detect something savage in his eyes, and a look of badly suppressed glee.

_He wants this. Oh, God…_

"My son," the older Nott moaned. "Surely you wouldn't…"

A twisted grimace appeared on Theodore's face, an exact replica of the one on Malfoy's.

"I told you I would," he said, wand out. "Remember?" His voice fell to a whisper, one that had even Buffy's enhanced senses straining to understand. "The night that you took the lock off my door so you could come "visit", I told you I'd murder you."

His father had turned stark white, paler even then Lucius, although his complexion was naturally darker.

"My boy," he whispered. "I lo-"

The word was cut off by a blow to the face.

"You dare," Theodore said wonderingly. "You dare attempt such a thing? As if it would make me reconsider?"

Behind him, Lucius looked on with something akin to affection; it was an almost fatherly pride in his eyes, if he were capable of feeling such things.

Theodore turned to face him, then. He met Malfoy's grey eyes with his own, holding his gaze as he said, "My loyalty is to the Dark Lord alone. I have no care for any other."

And then, as she hid in silence, Buffy watched as he pointed his wand at his father and let out a wordless spell. A jet of green light erupted from the wand, and before she could do much more then process what it was, Theodore's father was dead.

Malfoy looked slightly surprised at what Theodore had done, but then his grimace grew even wider. The other Death Eaters, who had been milling about the far end of the warehouse, had all turned to look when the Killing Curse had illuminated the darkened room. Now, they drew closer to the twisted pair, and took a good look at the body of their former comrade with expressions varying from shock (present mostly on the younger ones, some of whom she was sure she recognized) to apathy (this was strongest on the face of a woman with long dark hair and a distinct air of cruelty about her.

It was she who snapped at one of the younger ones to destroy the body, along with the rest of them.

"Rest of them" did not sound like a good thing. Had they murdered others before she arrived?

Buffy's questions were answered when the young Death Eater grumbled, too low for the woman to hear, but perfectly clear to her own ears, about the futility of cleaning up dead demons. "Muggles never notice a thing, anyway," he finished. "Especially not here. Even they won't go near this filth."

It took all of her control to keep her from attacking them all. She could feel the impulse rising in her; envision all the possible scenarios…She was the Slayer, and she had come to Slay.

_No humans, though. _

It was hard. Her instincts were screaming at her to make her move. She had the advantage; they had no idea she was here, and even if they did, they would never know what she was – not until it was too late. She could happily murder them all without any of them ever knowing what had happened to them. She highly doubted if the people in Hell would be so kind as to tell them that, either.

_You are The Slayer. You have no part in this_, she told herself.

So she stayed hidden until they left. This was not her place.

When the Death Eaters had all Disapparated, it was past 2:45, and Buffy realized she had less then fifteen minutes to be back at the Council.

She ran to the Tube station, only to be informed that the Underground was out of commission until further notice – something about a terrorist threat.

She swore, long and loud, using words that would have made Faith proud. And when she remembered that she'd left her phone in her office, she swore even louder. She was on the street again, and facing the prospect of having to run all the way to the Council without anyone seeing her and marveling at her supernatural speed, when someone honked at her.

"Sod off," she snapped, reverting to terms the person would understand. _Thank god for Spike._

"Get in," the driver yelled out the window.

Normally, Buffy would have had some very interesting things to say – and do – to the person making that offer, but she recognized that voice. In fact, she knew it very well.

"_Dawn_?" she exclaimed, sliding into the passenger seat.

"I wanted to talk to you," her sister said, staring intently at the road. "But you didn't have your phone, and Lisa told me you'd been planning to look around the city."

"So you drove around some of the city's crappiest neighborhoods looking for me?" Buffy said. She didn't know if she should be angry or touched.

"No," Dawn said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "I scried for you."

"Oh." _Let's go with touched, then…_

"We should talk," her sister said.

"Uh huh," Buffy agreed, noncommittally. _Dawn's a big girl, now, she can apologize on her own._

_And maybe I should throw in a little, itty bitty one of my own. I was kinda harsh on her. _

"Kinda very," Willow would have said, if she were there. _And could read my thoughts, which, you know, is always a possibility with her. _

Dawn still wasn't looking at her, which meant she was either very focused on driving, or very focused on…not looking at her.

Buffy knew which little bubble she'd fill in.

When they came to a stop sign and Dawn still had her eyes glued to the pavement, Buffy knew she was right.

_Choice B, it is._

"Are you having a staring contest with the road, or did it just do something to piss you off?" she asked, keeping her voice light.

"I went there," Dawn said abruptly.

"Where?" Buffy asked, nonplussed. "Anywhere could be "there". Are you talking about a bar? Because I already know about that. And, by the way, some guy named Kev from Hanger's On, whatever the hell that is, called for you this morning."

"Home."

"Wow, that really clears things up. You went home. I kinda already knew that, too."

Buffy sometimes got sarcastic when she was nervous. It was starting to show through now, but Dawn was choosing not to comment like she usually did.

"No, Buffy, I went home last night. I went to see it." Dawn finally looked at her sister.

There was something different about the way she said it, some little emphasis that was familiar to her. _She couldn't have. _One look at Dawn's face was enough to convince her. _She did._

Buffy paled. "Pull over," she said.

"We're going to miss the meeting."

"_Pull over._"

Dawn complied, pulling into an empty parking lot outside a bank. She was still talking, too.

"It's nice. It looks cozy, just like Mum always said it did. I'd started to forget, you know." They were back to not looking at each other, but this time, Buffy was as much for it as Dawn was. "There's another family living there. They just moved in – there's two kids, a little younger then me. It's their home, now, I guess. They like it, anyway."

Her voice broke, and she trailed off.

After that, no one spoke. They sat there for a few moments, avoiding each other's gazes, then –

Buffy put her arms around her sister and held her as they both started to cry.

* * *

**Notes: **Tell me what you thought. Got to say, I love all of you who reviewed! x. Rachel.


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